THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

SANTA  BARBARA 

COLLEGE  OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

MR. AND  MRS.R.W.VAUGHAN 


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THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE 


\ Author's  Edition.] 


BEYOND  norilT  Ur.  NOW  RECOGNIZED  HIMSELF  FOK  I>OST,  AND  HAD  SOME 
TASTE  OF  THE  (OLD  AGONY  OF  FEAU,  OK  HE  HAD  NEVER  ATTEMITED 
THE    FOUL  STROKE.  (Pctije  139.) 


THE  MASTER   OF  BALLANTRAE 


%  Mlintcr's  ^alc 


BY 

EGBERT   LOUIS   STEVENSON 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  WILLIAM  HOLE 


NEW   YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
1895 

{All  rights  teserved] 


XJNIVRRSITy  OP  CALIFORNIA 
SANTA  BAEJARA  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 


PR 

MX 

TO 

SIR  PERCY  FLORENCE  AND  LADY  SHELLEY. 


Here  is  a  tale  which  extends  over  many  years  and  travels  into  many 
countries.  By  a  peculinr  fitness  of  circumstance  the  writer  began, 
continued  it,  and  concluded  it  among  distant  and  diverse  scenes. 
Above  all,  he  was  much  upon  the  sea.  The  character  and  fortune 
of  the  fraternal  enemies,  the  hall  and  shrubbery  of  Durrisdeer, 
the  problem  of  Mackellar's  homespun  and  how  to  shape  it  for 
superior  flights  ;  these  were  his  company  on  deck  in  many  star- 
reflecting  harbours,  ran  often  in  his  mind  at  sea  to  the  tune  of 
slatting  canvas,  and  were  dismissed  (something  of  the  suddenest) 
on  the  approach  of  squalls.  It  is  my  hope  that  these  surround- 
ings of  its  manufacture  may  to  some  degree  find  favour  for  my 
Btory  with  seafarers  and  sea-lovers  like  yourselves. 

And  at  least  here  is  a  dedication  from  a  great  way  off  :  written 
by  the  loud  shores  of  a  subtropical  island  near  upon  ten  thousand 
miles  from  Boscombe  Chine  and  Manor :  scenes  which  rise  before 
me  as  I  write,  along  with  the  faces  and  voices  of  my  friends. 

Well,  I  am  for  the  sea  once  more  ;  no  doubt  Sir  Percy  also.     Let 

us  make  the  signal  B.  R.  D.  ! 

R.  L.  S. 

Waikiki,  May  17,  1889. 


CONTENTS. 


FASB 

SUMMARY    OP    EVENTS    DURING    THE    MASTER'S 
WANDERINGS, 1 


THE  MASTER'S   WANDERINGS  :   Frovx  the  Memoirs  of 

the  Chevalier  de  Burke, 40 

PERSECUTIONS  ENDURED  BY  MR.  HENRY,    ...     84 

ACCOUNT  OP  ALL  THAT   PASSED  OX  THE  NIGHT 
OF   FEBRUARY   27TH,  1757, 132 

SUMMARY    OP    EVENTS    DURING    THE    MASTER'S 
SECOND  ABSENCE, 163 

ADVENTURE    OP    CHEVALIER    BURKE    IN    INDIA  : 
Extracted  from  Ms  Memoirs, 190 

THE  ENEMY   IN  THE  HOUSE, 196 


viii  CONTENTS 

PAOB 

MR.  MACKELLAR'S  JOURNF.Y  WITH   THE  MASTER  227 

PASSAGES   AT   NEW    YORK, 253 

THE  JOURNEY   IN  THE   WILDERNESS 278 

Narrative  of  the  Trader    Mountain, 292 

THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WILDERNESS— CoricZutfecZ,     .  312 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIOKa 


PAGE 
BEYOND    DOUBT    HE    NOW     RECOGNIZED    HIMSELF    FOR    LOST,    AND 

HAD  SOME   TASTE   OF    THE  COLD  AGONY  OF  FEAR,  OR   HE    HAD 

NEVER   ATTEMPTED   THE    FOUL   STROKE    FrOntisiriece 

"HEADS,  I   GO  ;    SHIELDS,  I   STAY  " 6 

THE   BLEAK   DANGEROUS   SEA    SURROUNDINGS  THAT    MADE    THESE 

ACTS   OF   PIRACY    FAR    THE    MOST    REVOLTING 54 

THE   TRACK  ON    BOTH    HANDS   WAS    ENCLOSED    BY   THE    UNBROKEN 

WOODS 78 

THE  PASSENGER  STANDING  ALONE  UPON  THE  POINT  OF  ROCK,  A 
TALL,  SLENDER  FIGURE  OF  A  GENTLEMAN,  HABITED  IN 
BLACK 100 

THE    FIRST   TO    MOVE    WAS    THE    SINGER,   WHO    GOT    TO    HIS    FEET 

SUDDENLY    AND    SOFTLY 120 

AND    THEN    THEY    WERE    GONE,     INDEED,    HAVING    LOOKED    THEIR 

LAST   ON   THE   KIND    ROOF    OF    DURRISDEER 216 

"I    WERE    LIKER   A  MAN    IF   I   STRUCK   THIS   CREATURE    DOWN"..    244 

NEITHER  SPOKE  ;   NOR  DID   MY  LORD   SO   MUCH  AS   CAST  A  GLANCE 

UPON   HIS    ENEMY 263 

SECUNDRA,    ABSORBED   IN   HIS    TOIL,    HEARD    OR   HEEDED   NOT   AT 

ALL 326 


THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE 


SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS    DURING    THE 
MASTER'S    WANDERINGS. 

The  full  truth  of  this  odd  matter  is  what  the  world 
has  long  been  looking  for  and  public  curiosity  is  sure  to 
welcome.  It  so  befell  that  I  was  intimately  mingled 
with  the  last  years  and  history  of  the  house  ;  and  there 
does  not  live  one  man  so  able  as  myself  to  make  these 
matters  plain,  or  so  desirous  to  narrate  them  faithfully. 
I  knew  the  Master;  on  many  secret  steps  of  his  career, 
I  have  an  authentic  memoir  in  my  hand  ;  I  sailed  with 
him  on  his  last  voyage  almost  alone  ;  I  made  one  upon 
that  winter's  journey  of  which  so  many  tales  have  gone 
abroad  ;  and  I  was  there  at  the  man's  death.  As  for 
my  late  Lord  Durrisdeer,  I  served  him  and  loved  him 
near  twenty  years  ;  and  thought  more  of  him  the  more 
I  knew  of  him.  Altogether,  I  think  it  not  fit  that  so 
much  evidence  should  perish  ;  the  truth  is  a  debt  I  owe 
my  lord's  memory ;  and  I  think  my  old  years  will  flow 
more  smoothly  and  my  white  hair  lie  quieter  on  the  pil- 
low, when  the  debt  is  paid. 


2  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

The  Duries  of  Durrisdeer  and  Ballantrae  were  a  strong 
family  in  the  southwest  from  the  days  of  David  First. 
A  rhyme  still  current  in  the  countryside — 

Kittle  folk  are  the  Durrisdeers, 
They  ride  \vi'  ower  mony  spears — 

bears  the  mark  of  its  antiquity  ;  and  the  name  appears 
in  another,  which  common  report  atti-ibutes  to  Thomas 
of  Ercildoune  himself — I  cannot  say  how  truly,  and 
which  some  have  applied — I  dare  not  say  with  how 
much  justice — to  the  events  of  this  narration  : 

Twa  Duries  in  Durrisdeer, 

Ane  to  tie  and  ane  to  ride, 
An  ill  day  for  the  groom 

And  a  waur  day  for  the  bride. 

Authentic  history  besides  is  filled  with  their  exploits 
which  (to  our  modern  eyes)  seem  not  very  commendable  ; 
and  the  family  suffered  its  full  share  of  those  ups  and 
downs  to  which  the  great  houses  of  Scotland  have  been 
ever  liable.  But  all  these  I  ]Dass  over,  to  come  to  that 
memorable  year  1745,  when  the  foundations  of  this 
tragedy  were  laid. 

At  that  time  there  dwelt  a  family  of  four  persons  in 
the  house  of  Durrisdeer,  near  St.  Bride's,  on  the  Solway 
shore  ;  a  ohief  hold  of  their  race  since  the  reformation. 
My  old  lord,  eighth  of  the  name,  was  not  old  in  years,  but 
he  suffered  prematurely  from  the  disabilities  of  age  ;  his 
place  was  at  the  chimney  side ;  there  he  sat  reading,  in 


SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.  3 

a  lined  gown,  with  few  words  for  any  man,  and  wry 
words  for  none  :  the  model  of  an  old  retired  housekeeper  ; 
and  yet  his  mind  very  well  nourished  with  study,  and 
reputed  in  the  country  to  be  more  cunning  than  he 
seemed.  The  Master  of  Ballantrae,  James  in  baptism, 
took  from  his  father  the  love  of  serious  reading;  some 
of  his  tact  perhaps  as  well,  but  that  which  was  only 
policy  in  the  father  became  black  dissimulation  in  the 
son.  The  face  of  his  behaviour  was  merely  popular  and 
wild  :  he  sat  late  at  wine,  later  at  the  cards ;  had  the 
name  in  the  country  of  "an  unco  man  for  the  lasses"  ; 
and  was  ever  in  the  front  of  broils.  But  for  all  he  was 
the  first  to  go  in,  yet  it  was  observed  he  was  invariably 
the  best  to  come  off  ;  and  his  partners  in  mischief  were 
usually  alone  to  pay  the  piper.  This  luck  or  dexterity 
got  him  several  ill-wishers,  but  with  the  rest  of  the  coun- 
try, enhanced  his  reputation  ;  so  that  great  things  were 
looked  for  in  his  future,  when  he  should  have  gained 
more  gravity.  One  very  black  mark  he  had  to  his  name  ; 
but  the  matter  was  hushed  up  at  the  time,  and  so  de- 
faced by  legends  before  I  came  into  those  parts,  that  I 
scruple  to  set  it  down.  If  it  was  true,  it  was  a  horrid 
fact  in  one  so  young  ;  and  if  false,  it  was  a  horrid  calum- 
ny. 1  think  it  notable  that  he  had  always  vaunted  him- 
self quite  implacable,  and  was  taken  at  his  word  ;  so  that 
he  had  the  addition  among  his  neighbours  of  "  an  ill  man 
to  cross."  Here  was  altogether  a  young  nobleman  (not 
yQt  twenty-four  in  the  year  '45)  who  had  made  a  figure 


4  THE   MASTER    OF   BALLANTRAE. 

in  the  country  beyond  his  time  of  life.  The  less  marvel 
if  there  were  little  heard  of  the  second  son,  Mr.  Henry 
(my  late  Lord  Durrisdeer),  who  was  neither  very  bad  nor 
yet  very  able,  but  an  honest,  solid  sort  of  lad  like  many 
of  his  neighbours.  Little  heard,  I  say  ;  but  indeed  it  was 
a  case  of  little  spoken.  He  was  known  among  the  salmon 
fishers  in  the  firth,  for  that  was  a  sport  that  he  assidu- 
ously followed  ;  he  was  an  excellent  good  horse-doctor 
besides  ;  and  took  a  chief  hand,  almost  from  a  boy,  in  the 
management  of  the  estates.  How  hard  a  part  that  was,  in 
the  situation  of  that  family,  none  knows  better  than  my- 
self;  nor  yet  with  how  little  colour  of  justice  a  man  may 
there  acquire  the  reputation  of  a  tyrant  and  a  miser.  The 
fourth  person  in  the  house  was  Miss  Alison  Graeme,  a 
near  kinswoman,  an  orphan,  and  tlie  heir  to  a  considera- 
ble fortune  which  her  father  had  acquired  in  trade.  This 
money  was  loudly  called  for  by  my  lord's  necessities  ;  in- 
deed the  land  was  deeply  mortgaged  ;  and  Miss  Alison 
was  designed  accordingly  to  be  the  Master's  wife,  gladly 
enough  on  her  side ;  with  how  much  good  will  on  his,  is 
another  matter.  She  was  a  comely  girl  and  in  those  days 
very  spirited  and  self-willed  ;  for  the  old  lord  having  no 
daughter  of  his  own,  and  my  lady  being  long  dead,  she 
had  grown  up  as  best  she  might. 

To  these  four,  came  the  news  of  Prince  Charlie's  land- 
ing, and  set  them  presently  by  the  ears.  My  lord,  like 
the  chimney- keeper  that  he  was,  was  all  for  temporising. 
Miss  Alison  held  the   other  side,   because  it  appeared 


SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS.  6 

romantical ;  and  the  Master  (though  I  have  heard  they 
did  not  agree  often)  was  for  this  once  of  her  opinion. 
The  adventure  tempted  him,  as  I  conceive  ;  he  was 
tempted  by  the  opportunity  to  raise  the  fortunes  of  the 
house,  and  not  less  by  the  hope  of  paying  off  his  private 
liabilities,  which  were  heavy  beyond  all  opinion.  As  for 
Mr.  Henry,  it  appears  he  said  little  enough  at  jQrst ;  his 
part  came  later  on.  It  took  the  three  a  whole  day's 
disputation,  before  they  agreed  to  steer  a  middle  course, 
one  son  going  forth  to  strike  a  blow  for  King  James,  my 
lord  and  the  other  staying  at  home  to  keep  in  favour  with 
King  George.  Doubtless  this  was  my  lord's  decision  ; 
and  as  is  well  known,  it  was  the  part  played  by  many 
considerable  families.  But  the  one  dispute  settled,  an- 
other opened.  For  my  lord.  Miss  Alison  and  Mr.  Henry 
all  held  the  one  view  :  that  it  was  the  cadet's  part  to  go 
out ;  and  the  Master,  what  with  restlessness  and  vanity, 
would  at  no  rate  consent  to  stay  at  home.  My  lord 
pleaded,  Miss  Alison  wept,  Mr.  Henry  was  very  plain 
spoken  :  all  was  of  no  avail. 

*'It  is  the  direct  heir  of  Durrisdeer  that  should  ride 
by  his  King's  bridle,"  says  the  Master. 

"If  we  were  playing  a  manly  part,"  says  Mr.  Henry, 
*'  there  might  be  sense  in  such  talk.  But  what  are  we 
doing  ?    Cheating  at  cards  !  " 

"We  are  saving  the  house  of  Durrisdeer,  Henry,"  his 
father  said. 

"And  see,  James,"  said  Mr.   Henry,   "if  I  go,  and 


6  THE   MASTER  OF   BALLANTRAE. 

the  Prince  has  the  upper  hand,  it  will  be  easy  to  make 
your  peace  with  King  James.  But  if  you  go,  and  the 
expedition  fails,  we  divide  the  right  and  the  title.  And 
what  shall  I  be  then  ?  " 

"You  will  be  Lord  Durrisdeer,"  said  the  Master.  "I 
put  all  I  have  upon  the  table." 

**I  play  at  no  such  game,"  cries  Mr.  Henry.  "I 
shall  be  left  in  such  a  situation  as  no  man  of  sense  and 
honour  could  endure.  I  shall  be  neither  fish  nor 
flesh  ! "  he  cried.  And  a  little  after,  he  had  another 
expression,  plainer  perhaps  than  he  intended.  "  It  is 
your  duty  to  be  here  with  my  father,"  said  he.  **  You 
know  well  enough  you  are  the  favourite." 

*'Ay  ?"  said  the  Master.  "And  there  spoke  Envy  ! 
Would  you  trip  up  my  heels — Jacob?"  said  he,  and 
dwelled  upon  the  name  maliciously. 

Mr.  Henry  went  and  walked  at  the  low  end  of  the 
hall  without  reply  ;  for  he  had  an  excellent  gift  of 
silence.     Presently  he  came  back. 

"I  am  the  cadet  and  I  should  go, ^^  said  he.  "And 
my  lord  here  is  the  master,  and  he  says  I  shall  go. 
What  say  ye  to  that,  my  brother  ?" 

"I  say  this,  HaiTy,"  returned  the  Master,  "that 
when  very  obstinate  folk  are  met,  there  are  only  two 
ways  out :  Blows — and  I  think  none  of  us  could  care  to 
go  so  far ;  or  the  arbitrament  of  chance — and  here  is 
a  guinea  piece.  Will  you  stand  by  the  toss  of  the 
coin  ?" 


"heads,  I  go;    shields,  i  stay." 


SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS.  7 

"I  will  stand  and  fall  by  it,"  said  Mr.  Henry. 
*'  Heads,  I  go  ;  shield,  I  stay." 

The  coin  was  spun  and  it  fell  shield.  "  So  there  is  a 
lesson  for  Jacob,"  says  the  Master. 

*' We  shall  live  to  repent  of  this,"  says  Mr.  Henry, 
and  flung  out  of  the  hall. 

As  for  Miss  Alison,  she  caught  up  that  piece  of  gold 
which  had  just  sent  her  lover  to  the  wars,  and  flung  it 
clean  through  the  family  shield  in  the  great  painted 
window. 

"If  you  loved  me  as  well  as  I  love  you,  you  would 
have  stayed,"  cried  she. 

" '  I  could  not  love  you,  dear,  so  well,  loved  I  not 
honour  more,'"  sang  the  Master. 

*'  0  ! "  she  cried,  "  you  have  no  heart — I  hope  you 
may  be  killed  ! "  and  she  ran  from  the  room,  and  in 
tears  to  her  own  chamber. 

It  seems  the  Master  turned  to  my  lord  with  his  most 
comical  manner,  and  says  he,  "  This  looks  like  a  devil 
of  a  wife." 

*'  I  think  you  are  a  devil  of  a  son  to  me,"  cried  his 
father,  "you  that  has  always  been  the  favourite,  to  my 
shame  be  it  spoken.  Never  a  good  hour  have  1  gotten 
of  you,  since  you  were  born  ;  no,  never  one  good  hour,'* 
and  repeated  it  again  the  third  time.  Whether  it  was 
the  Master's  levity,  or  his  insubordination,  or  Mr.  Hen- 
ry's word  about  the  favourite  son,  that  had  so  much 
disturbed  my  lord,  I  do  not  know ;  but  I  incline  to 


8  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

think  it  was  the  last,  for  I  have  it  by  all  accounts  that 
Mr.  Henry  was  more  made  np  to  from  that  hour. 

Altogether  it  was  in  pretty  ill  blood  with  his  family 
that  the  Master  rode  to  the  north  ;  which  was  the  more 
sorrowful  for  others  to  remember  when  it  seemed  too 
late.  By  fear  and  favour,  he  had  scraped  together  near 
upon  a  dozen  men,  principally  tenants'  sons  ;  they  were 
all  pretty  full  when  they  set  forth,  and  rode  up  the  hill 
by  the  old  abbey,  roaring  and  singing,  the  white  cock- 
ade in  every  hat.  It  was  a  desperate  venture  for  so 
small  a  company  to  cross  the  most  of  Scotland  unsup- 
ported ;  and  (what  made  folk  think  so  the  more)  even 
as  that  poor  dozen  was  clattei'ing  up  the  hill,  a  great 
ship  of  the  king's  navy,  that  could  have  brought  them 
under  with  a  single  boat,  lay  with  her  broad  ensign 
streaming  in  the  bay.  The  next  afternoon,  having 
given  the  Master  a  fair  start,  it  was  Mr.  Henry's  turn  ; 
and  he  rode  off,  all  by  himself,  to  offer  his  sword  and 
carry  letters  from  his  father  to  King  George's  govern- 
ment. Miss  Alison  was  shut  in  her  room  and  did 
little  but  weep,  till  both  were  gone  ;  only  she  stitched 
the  cockade  upon  the  Master's  hat  and  (as  John  Paul 
told  me)  it  was  wetted  with  tears  when  he  carried  it 
down  to  him. 

In  all  that  followed,  Mr.  Henry  and  my  old  lord  were 
true  to  their  bargain.  That  ever  they  accomplished 
anything  is  more  than  I  could  learn ;  and  that  they 
were  anyway  strong  on  tiie  king's  side,  more  than  I  be- 


SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS,  9 

licve.  But  tliey  kept  the  letter  of  loyalty,  corresponded 
with  my  Lord  President,  sat  still  at  heme,  and  had 
little  or  no  commerce  with  the  Master  while  that  busi- 
ness lasted.  Nor  was  he,  on  his  side,  more  communi- 
cative. Miss  x\lison,  indeed,  was  always  sending  him 
expresses,  but  I  do  not  know  if  she  had  many  answers. 
Macconochie  rode  for  her  once,  and  found  the  High- 
landers before  Carlisle,  and  the  Master  riding  by  the 
Prince's  side  in  high  favour ;  he  took  the  letter  (so  Mac- 
conochie tells),  opened  it,  glanced  it  through  with  a 
mouth  like  a  man  whistling,  and  stuck  it  in  his  belt, 
whence,  on  his  horse  passageing,  it  fell  unregarded  to 
the  ground.  It  was  Macconochie  who  picked  it  up  ;  and 
he  still  kept  it,  and  indeed  I  have  seen  it  in  his  liands. 
News  came  to  Durrisdecr  of  course,  by  the  common  re- 
port, as  it  goes  travelh'ng  tlirough  a  country,  a  thing 
always  wonderful  to  me.  By  that  means  the  family 
learned  more  of  the  Master's  favour  with  the  Prince, 
and  the  ground  it  was  said  to  stand  on  :  for  by  a  strange 
condescension  in  a  man  so  proud — only  that  he  was  a 
man  still  more  ambitious — he  was  said  to  have  crept 
into  notability  by  truckling  to  the  Irish.  Sir  Thomas 
Sullivan,  Colonel  Burke  and  the  rest  were  his  daily 
comrades,  by  which  course  he  withdrew  himself  from 
his  own  country  folk.  All  the  small  intrigues,  he  had 
a  hand  in  fomenting ;  thwarted  my  Lord  George  upon 
a  thousand  points  ;  was  always  for  the  advice  that 
seemed  palatable  to  the  Prince,  no  matter  if  it  was  good 


10  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAK 

or  bad ;  and  seems  upon  the  whole  (like  the  gambler  he 
was  all  throngii  life)  to  have  had  less  regard  to  the 
chances  of  the  campaign  than  to  the  greatness  of  favour 
he  might  aspire  to,  if  (by  any  luck)  it  should  succeed. 
For  the  rest,  he  did  very  well  in  the  field  ;  no  one  ques- 
tioned that ;  for  he  was  no  coward. 

The  next  was  the  news  of  Culloden,  which  was 
brought  to  Durrisdeer  by  one  of  the  tenant's  sons,  the 
only  survivor,  he  declared,  of  all  those  that  had  gone 
singing  up  the  hill.  By  an  unfortunate  chance,  John 
Paul  and  Macconochie  had  that  very  morning  found  the 
guinea  piece  (which  was  the  root  of  all  the  evil)  sticking 
in  a  holly  bush  ;  they  had  been  ''up  the  gait,"  as  the 
servants  say  at  Durrisdeer,  to  the  change  house  ;  and  if 
they  had  little  left  of  the  guinea,  they  had  less  of  their 
wits.  AVhat  must  John  Paul  do,  but  burst  into  the  hall 
where  the  family  sat  at  dinner,  and  cry  the  news  to 
them  that  "  Tam  Macmorland  was  but  new  lichtit  at 
the  door,  and — wirra,  wirra — there  were  nane  to  come 
behind  him  "  ? 

They  took  the  word  in  silence  like  folk  condemned  ; 
only  Mr.  Henry  carrying  his  palm  to  his  face,  and  Miss 
Alison  laying  her  head  outright  upon  her  hands.  As 
for  my  lord,  he  was  like  ashes. 

"I  have  still  one  son,"  says  he.  "And  Henry,  I  will 
do  you  this  justice,  it  is  the  kinder  that  is  left." 

It  was  a  strange  thing  to  say  in  such  a  moment :  but 
my  lord  had  never  forgotten  Mr.  Heniy's  speech,  and 


SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS.  11 

he  had  years  of  injustice  on  his  conscience.  Still  it  was 
a  strange  thing ;  and  more  than  Miss  Alison  could  let 
pass.  She  broke  out  and  blamed  my  lord  for  his  un- 
natural words,  and  Mr.  Henry  because  he  was  sitting 
there  in  safety  when  his  brother  lay  dead,  and  herself 
because  she  had  given  her  sweetheart  ill  words  at  his 
departure  ;  calling  him  the  flower  of  the  flock,  wringing 
her  hands,  protesting  her  love,  and  crying  on  him  by 
his  name  ;  so  that  the  servants  stood  astonished. 

Mr.  Henry  got  to  his  feet  and  stood  holding  his  chair  ; 
it  was  he  that  was  like  ashes  now. 

"0,"  he  burst  out  suddenly,  ''I  know  you  loved 
him ! " 

"  The  world  knows  that,  glory  be  to  God  ! "  cries  she  ; 
and  then  to  Mr.  Henry  :  "  There  is  none  but  me  to 
know  one  thing — that  you  were  a  traitor  to  him  in  your 
heart." 

"God  knows,"  groans  he,  '^it  was  lost  love  on  both 
sides." 

Time  went  by  in  the  house  after  that,  without  much 
change ;  only  they  were  now  three  instead  of  four, 
which  was  a  perpetual  reminder  of  their  loss.  Miss 
Alison's  money,  you  are  to  bear  in  mind,  was  highly 
needful  for  the  estates ;  and  the  one  brother  being  dead, 
my  old  lord  soon  set  his  heart  upon  her  marrying  the 
other.  Day  in,  day  out,  he  would  work  upon  her,  sitting 
by  the  chimney  side  with  his  finger  in  his  Latin  book, 
and  his  eyes  set  upon  her  face  with  a  kind  of  pleasant 


12  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

intcntness  that  became  the  old  gentleman  very  well.  If 
she  wept,  he  woald  condole  with  her,  like  an  ancient 
man  that  has  seen  worse  times  and  begins  to  think 
lightly  even  of  sorrow ;  if  she  raged,  he  would  fall  to 
reading  again  in  his  Latin  book,  bnt  always  with  some 
civil  excuse  ;  if  she  offered  (as  she  often  did)  to  lei  them 
have  her  money  in  a  gift^  he  would  show  her  how  little 
it  consisted  with  his  honour,  and  remind  her,  even  if  he 
should  consent,  that  Mr.  Henry  would  certainly  refuse. 
JVon  vl  sed  scB'pe  cadendo  was  a  favourite  word  of  his ;  and 
no  doubt  this  quiet  persecution  wore  away  much  of  her 
resolve ;  no  doubt,  besides,  he  had  a  great  influence  on 
the  girl,  having  stood  in  the  place  of  both  her  parents  ; 
and  for  that  matter,  she  was  herself  filled  with  the 
spirit  of  the  Duries,  and  would  have  gone  a  great  way 
for  the  glory  of  Durrisdeer ;  but  not  so  far,  I  think,  as 
to  marry  my  poor  patron,  had  it  not  been  (strangely 
enough)  for  the  circumstance  of  his  extreme  unpo^ju- 
larity. 

This  was  the  work  of  Tam  Macmorland.  There  was 
not  much  harm  in  Tam  ;  but  he  had  that  grievous 
weakness,  a  long  tongue  ;  and  as  the  only  man  in  that 
country  who  had  been  out  (or  rather  who  had  come  in 
again)  he  was  sure  of  listeners.  Those  that  have  the 
underhand  in  any  fighting,  I  have  observed,  are  ever 
anxious  to  jiersuade  themselves  they  were  betrayed.  By 
Tarn's  account  of  it,  the  rebels  had  been  betrayed  at 
every  turn  and  by  every  ofiicer  they  had  ;  they  had  been 


SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS.  18 

betrayed  at  Derby,  and  betrayed  at  Falkirk ;  the  nigbt 
marcb  was  a  steji  of  treachery  of  my  Lord  Greorge's ;  and 
Cullodcn  was  lost  by  the  treachery  of  the  Macdonalds. 
This  habit  of  imputing  treason  grew  upon  the  fool,  till 
at  last  he  must  have  in  Mr.  Henry  also.  Mr.  Henry  (by 
his  account)  had  betrayed  the  lads  of  Durrisdeer ;  he 
had  promised  to  follow  with  more  men,  and  instead  of 
that  he  had  ridden  to  King  George.  "Ay,  and  the 
next  day  ! "  Tarn  Avould  cry.  "  The  puir,  bonnie  Master 
and  the  puir,  kind  lads  that  rade  wi'  him,  were  hardly 
ower  the  scaur,  or  he  was  aff — the  Judis  !  Ay,  weel — he 
has  his  way  o't :  he's  to  be  my  lord,  nae  less,  and  there's 
mony  a  cauld  corp  amang  the  Hieland  heather ! " 
And  at  this,  if  Tarn  had  been  drinking,  he  would  begin 
to  weep. 

Let  anyone  speak  long  enough,  he  will  get  believers. 
This  view  of  Mr.  Henry's  behaviour  crept  about  the 
country  by  little  and  little  ;  it  was  talked  upon  by 
folk  that  knew  the  contrary  but  were  short  of  topics ; 
and  it  was  heard  and  believed  and  given  out  for  gospel 
by  the  ignorant  and  the  ill-willing.  Mr.  Henry  began 
to  be  shunned  :  yet  awhile,  and  the  commons  began 
to  murmur  as  he  went  by,  and  the  women  (who  are 
always  the  most  bold  because  they  are  the  most  safe)  to 
cry  out  their  reproaches  to  his  face.  The  Master  was 
cried  uj)  for  a  saint.  It  was  remembered  how  he  had 
never  any  hand  in  pressing  the  tenants  ;  as,  indeed,  no 
more  he  had,  except  to  spend  the  money.     He  was  a 


14  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

little  wild  perhaps,  the  folk  said  ;  but  how  much  better 
was  a  natural,  wild  lad  that  would  soon  have  settled 
down,  than  a  skinflint  and  a  sneckdraw,  sitting,  with 
his  nose  in  an  account  book,  to  persecute  poor  tenants. 
One  trollop,  who  had  had  a  child  to  the  Master  and  by 
all  accounts  been  very  badly  used,  yet  made  herself  a 
kind  of  champion  of  his  memory.  She  flung  a  stone 
one  day  at  Mr.  Henry. 

*'Whaur's  the  bonnie  lad  that  trustit  ye  ?"  she  cried. 

Mr.  Henry  reined  in  his  horse  and  looked  upon  her, 
the  blood  flowing  from  his  lip.  *"  Ay,  Jess  ?"  says  he. 
*' You  too  ?  And  yet  ye  should  ken  me  better."  Foi 
it  was  he  who  had  helped  her  with  money. 

The  woman  had  another  stone  ready,  which  she  made 
as  if  she  would  cast ;  and  he,  to  ward  himself,  threw 
up  the  hand  that  held  his  riding  rod. 

"  What,  would  ye  beat  a  lassie,  ye  ugly ?  "'  cries 

she,  and  ran  away  screaming  as  though  he  had  struck 
her. 

Next  day,  word  went  about  the  country  like  wildfire 
that  Mr.  Henry  had  beaten  Jessie  Broun  within  an 
inch  of  her  life.  I  give  it  as  one  instance  of  how  this 
snowball  grew  and  one  calumny  brought  another  ;  until 
my  poor  patron  was  so  perished  in  reputation  that  he 
began  to  keep  the  house  like  my  lord.  All  this  while, 
you  may  be  very  sure  he  uttered  no  complaints  at  home  ; 
the  very  ground  of  the  scandal  was  too  sore  a  matter  to 
be  handled  ;  and  Mr.  Henry  was  very  proud  and  strangely 


SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS.  15 

obstinate  in  silence.  My  old  lord  must  have  heard  of 
it,  b}''  John  Paul,  if  by  no  one  else  ;  and  he  must  at  least 
have  remarked  the  altered  habits  of  his  son.  Yet  even 
he,  it  is  probable,  knew  not  how  high  the  feeling  ran  ; 
and  as  for  Miss  Alison,  she  was  ever  the  last  person  to 
hear  news,  and  the  least  interested  when  she  heard  them. 

In  the  height  of  the  ill-feeling  (for  it  died  away  as  it 
came,  no  man  could  say  why)  there  was  an  election 
forward  in  the  town  of  St.  Bride's,  which  is  the  next 
to  Durrisdeer,  standing  on  the  Water  of  Swift ;  some 
grievance  was  fermenting,  I  forget  what,  if  ever  I 
heard  ;  and  it  was  currently  said  there  would  be  broken 
heads  ere  night,  and  that  the  sheriff  had  sent  as  far 
as  Dumfries  for  soldiers.  My  lord  moved  that  Mr. 
Henry  should  be  present;  assuring  him  it  was  neces- 
sary to  appear,  for  the  credit  of  the  house.  "It  will 
soon  be  reported,"  said  he,  ''that  we  do  not  take  the 
lead  in  our  own  country." 

"  It  is  a  strange  lead  that  I  can  take,"  said  Mr.  Henry ; 
and  when  they  had  pushed  him  further,  "  I  tell  you 
the  plain  truth,"  he  said,  ''I  dare  not  show  my  face." 

*'You  are  the  first  of  the  house  that  ever  said  so," 
cries  Miss  Alison. 

"We  will  go  all  three,"  said  my  lord;  and  sure 
enough  he  got  into  his  boots  (the  first  time  in  four  years 
— a  sore  business  John  Paul  had  to  get  them  on)  and 
Miss  Alison  into  her  riding  coat,  and  all  three  rode  to- 
gether to  St.  Bride's. 


16  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

The  streets  were  full  of  the  riff-raff  of  all  the  country- 
side, who  had  no  sooner  clapped  eyes  on  Mr.  Henry 
than  the  hissing  began,  and  the  hooting,  and  the  cries 
of  ''Judas!"  and  "Where  was  the  Master?"  and 
*' Where  were  the  poor  lads  that  rode  with  him  ?" 
Even  a  stone  was  cast ;  but  the  more  part  cried  shame  at 
that,  for  my  old  lord's  sake  and  Miss  Alison's.  It  took 
not  ten  minutes  to  persuade  my  lord,  that  Mr.  Henry 
had  been  right.  He  said  never  a  word,  but  turned  his 
horse  about,  and  home  again,  with  his  chin  upon  his 
bosom.  Never  a  word  said  Miss  Alison  ;  no  doubt  she 
thought  the  more ;  no  doubt  her  pride  was  stung,  for 
she  was  a  bone-bred  Durie  ;  and  no  doubt  her  heart 
was  touched  to  see  her  cousin  so  unjustly  used.  That 
night  she  was'never  in  bed;  I  have  often  blamed  my 
lady — when  I  call  to  mind  that  night,  I  readily  foi-give 
her  all ;  and  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  she  camo 
to  the  old  lord  in  his  usual  seat. 

"If  Henry  still  wants  me,"  said  she,  ''he  can  have 
me  now."  To  himself  she  had  a  different  speech  :  "I 
bring  you  no  love,  Henry  ;  but  God  knows,  all  the  pity 
in  the  world." 

June  the  first,  1748,  was  the  day  of  their  marriage. 
It  was  December  of  the  same  year  that  first  saw  me 
alighting  at  the  doors  of  the  great  house  ;  and  from 
there  I  take  up  the  history  of  events  as  they  befell  undei 
my  own  observation,  like  a  witness  in  a  court. 


SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS.  17 


I  made  the,  last  of  my  journey  in  the  cold  end  of  De- 
cember, in  a  mighty  dry  day  of  frost ;  and  Avho  should  be 
my  guide  but  Patey  Macraorland,  brother  of  Tom  ?  For 
a  tow-headed,  bare-legged  brat  of  ten,  he  had  more  ill 
tales  upon  his  tongue  than  ever  I  heard  the  match  of  ; 
having  drunken  betimes  in  his  brother's  cup.  I  was  still 
not  so  old  myself ;  pride  had  not  yet  the  upperhand.  of 
curiosity  ;  and  indeed  it  would  have  taken  any  man,  that 
cold  morning,  to  hear  all  the  old  clashes  of  the  country 
and  be  shown  all  the  places  by  the  way  where  strange 
things  had  fallen  out.  I  had  tales  of  Claverhouse  as 
we  came  through  the  bogs,  and  tales  of  the  devil  as  we 
came  over  the  top  of  the  scaur.  As  we  came  in  by  the 
abbey  I  heard  somewhat  of  the  old  monks,  and  more 
of  the  freetraders,  who  use  its  ruins  for  a  magazine, 
landing  for  that  cause  within  a  cannon-shot  of  Durris- 
deer ;  and  along  all  the  road,  the  Duries  and  poor  Mr. 
Henry  were  in  the  first  rank  of  slander.  My  mind  was 
thus  highly  prejudiced  against  the  family  I  was  about 
to  serve ;  so  that  I  was  half  surprised,  when  I  beheld 
Durrisdeer  itself,  lying  in  a  j^retty,  sheltered  bay,  under 
the  Abbey  Hill  ;  the  house  most  commodiously  built 
in  the  French  fashion  or  perhaps  Italianate,  for  I  have 


18  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLAJNTRAE. 

no  skill  in  these  arts  ;  and  the  place  the  most  beautified 
with  gardens,  lawns,  shrubberies,  and  trees  I  had  ever 
seen.  The  money  sunk  here  unproductively  would  have 
quite  restored  the  family  ;  but  as  it  was,  it  cost  a  reveune 
to  keep  it  up. 

Mr.  Henry  came  himself  to  the  door  to  welcome  me  :  a 
tall,  dark  young  gentleman  (the  Duries  are  all  black  men) 
of  a  plain  and  not  cheerful  face,  very  strong  in  body  but 
not  so  strong  in  health  :  taking  me  by  the  hand  without 
any  pride,  and  putting  me  at  home  with  plain,  kind 
speeches.  He  led  me  into  the  hall,  booted  as  I  was,  to 
present  me  to  my  lord.  It  was  still  daylight ;  and  the 
first  thing  I  observed  was  a  lozenge  of  clear  glass  in  the 
midst  of  the  shield  in  the  painted  window,  which  I  re- 
member thinking  a  blemish  on  a  room  otherwise  so  hand- 
some, with  its  family  portraits,  and  the  pargetted  ceiling 
with  pendants,  and  the  carved  chimney,  in  one  corner  of 
which  my  old  lord  sat  reading  in  his  Livy.  He  was 
like  Mr.  Henry,  with  much  the  same  plain  countenance, 
only  more  subtle  and  pleasant,  and  his  talk  a  thousand 
times  more  entertaining.  He  had  many  questions  to 
ask  me,  I  remember,  of  Edinburgh  College,  where  I  had 
just  received  my  mastership  of  arts,  and  of  the  various 
professors,  with  whom  and  their  proficiency  he  seemed 
well  acquainted  ;  and  thus,  talking  of  things  that  I  knew, 
I  soon  got  liberty  of  speech  in  my  new  home. 

In  the  midst  of  this,  came  Mrs.  Henry  into  the  room  ; 
she  was  very  far  gone.  Miss  Katharine  being  due   in 


SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS.  19 

about  six  weeks,  which  made  me  thinly  less  of  her 
beauty  at  the  first  sight ;  and  she  used  me  with  more  of 
condescension  than  the  rest ;  so  that,  upon  all  accounts, 
I  kept  her  in  the  third  place  of  my  esteem. 

It  did  not  take  long  before  all  Pate  Macmorland's  tales 
were  blotted  out  of  my  belief,  and  I  was  become,  what  I 
have  ever  since  remained,  a  loving  servant  of  the  house  of 
Durrisdeer.  Mr.  Henry  had  the  chief  part  of  my  affec- 
tion. It  was  with  him  I  worked  ;  and  I  found  him  an 
exacting  master,  keeping  all  his  kindness  for  those  hours 
in  which  we  were  unemployed,  and  in  the  steward's  office 
not  only  loading  me  with  work  but  viewing  me  with 
a  shrewd  supervision.  At  length  one  day,  he  looked  up 
from  his  paper  with  a  kind  of  timidness,  aiid  says  he, 
"  Mr.  Mackellar,  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  you 
do  very  well."  That  was  my  first  word  of  commenda- 
tion ;  and  from  that  day  his  jealousy  of  my  performance 
was  relaxed;  soon  it  was  *'Mr.  Mackellar"  here,  and 
"Mr.  Mackellar"  there,  with  the  whole  family;  and 
for  much  of  my  service  at  Durrisdeer,  I  have  transacted 
everything  at  my  own  time  and  to  my  own  fancy,  and 
never  a  farthing  challenged.  Even  while  he  was  driv- 
ing me,  I  had  begun  to  find  my  heart  go  out  to  Mr. 
Henry  ;  no  doubt,  partly  in  pity,  he  was  a  man  so  pal- 
pably unhappy.  He  would  fall  into  a  deep  muse  over 
our  accounts,  staring  at  the  page  or  out  of  the  window  ; 
and  at  those  times  the  look  of  his  face,  and  the  sigh  that 
would  break  from  him,  awoke  in  me  strong  feelings  of 


20  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

curiosity  and  commiseration.  One  day,  I  remember,  we 
were  late  i;pon  some  Ijusiness  in  the  steward's  room. 
This  room  is  in  tlie  top  of  the  house  and  has  a  view 
upon  the  bay,  and  over  a  little  wooded  cape,  on  the  long 
sands  ;  and  there,  right  over  against  the  sun  which  was 
then  dipping,  we  saw  the  freetraders  with  a  great  force 
of  men  and  horses,  scouring  on  the  beach.  Mr.  Henry 
had  been  staring  straight  west,  so  that  I  marvelled  he 
was  not  blinded  by  the  sun  ;  suddenly  he  frowns,  rubs 
his  hand  upon  his  brow,  and  turns  to  me  with  a  smile, 

^' You  would  not  guess  what  I  was  thinking,"  says  he. 
"1  was  thinking  I  would  be  a  happier  man  if  I  could 
ride  and  run  the  danger  of  my  life,  with  these  lawless 
companions." 

I  told  him  I  had  observed  he  did  not  enjoy  good 
spirits  ;  and  that  it  was  a  common  fancy  to  envy  others 
and  think  we  should  be  the  better  of  some  change  ; 
quoting  Horace  to  the  point,  like  a  young  man  fresh 
from  college. 

"Why,  just  so,"  said  he.  "And  with  that  we  may 
get  back  to  our  accounts." 

It  was  not  long  before  I  began  to  get  wind  of  the 
causes  that  so  much  depressed  him.  Indeed  a  blind  man 
must  have  soon  discovered  there  was  a  shadow  on  that 
house,  the  shadow  of  the  Master  of  Ballantrae.  Dead 
or  alive  (and  he  was  then  supposed  to  be  de;id)  that  man 
was  his  brother's  rival :  his  rival  abroad,  where  there 
was  never  a  good  word  for  Mr.  Henry  and  nothing  but 


SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS.  21 

regret  and  praise  for  the  Master ;  and  liis  rival  at  home, 
not  only  with  his  father  and  his  wife,  but  with  the  very 
.  servants. 

They  were  two  old  serving  men,  that  were  the  leaders. 
John  Paul,  a  little,  bald,  solemn,  stomachy  man,  a  great 
professor  of  piety  and  (take  him  for  all  in  all)  a  pretty 
faithful  servant,  was  the  chief  of  the  Master's  faction, 
None  durst  go  so  far  as  John.  He  took  a  ]3leasure  in 
disregarding  Mr.  Henry  publicly,  often  with  a  slighting 
comparison.  My  lord  and  Mrs.  Henry  took  him  up,  to 
be  sure,  but  never  so  resolutely  as  they  should  ;  and  he 
had  only  to  pull  his  weeping  face  and  begin  his  lamen- 
tations for  the  Master — "  his  laddie,"  as  he  called  him — 
to  have  the  whole  condoned.  As  for  Henry,  lie  let 
these  things  pass  in  silence,  sometimes  with  a  sad  and 
sometimes  with  a  black  look.  There  was  no  rivalling 
the  dead,  he  knew  that ;  and  how  to  censure  an  old 
serving  man  for  a  fault  of  loyalty,  was  more  than  he 
could  see.     His  was  not  the  tongue  to  do  it. 

Macconochie  was  chief  upon  the  other  side  ;  an  old, 
ill-spoken,  swearing,  ranting,  drunken  dog ;  and  I  have 
often  thought  it  an  odd  circumstance  in  human  nature, 
that  these  two  serving  men  should  each  have  been  the 
champion  of  his  contrary,  and  blackened  their  own 
faults  and  made  light  of  their  own  virtues  when  they 
beheld  them  in  a  master.  Macconochie  had  soon  smelled 
out  ray  secret  inclination,  took  me  much  into  his  confi- 
dence, and  would  rant  against  the  Master  by  the  hour, 


22  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLANTRAK 

SO  that  even  my  work  suffcrccl.  "  They're  a'  daft  here," 
he  would  cry,  "and  be  damned  to  them  !  The  Master 
— the  deil's  in  their  thrapples  that  should  call  him  sae  ! 
it's  Mr.  Henry  should  be  master  now  !  They  were 
nane  sae  fond  o'  the  Master  when  they  had  him,  I'll  can 
tell  ye  that.  Sorrow  on  his  name  !  Never  a  guid  word 
did  I  hear  on  his  lips,  nor  naebody  else,  but  just  fleer- 
ing and  flyting  and  profane  cursing — deil  ha'e  him  ! 
There's  nane  kent  his  wickedness  :  him  a  gentleman  ! 
Did  ever  ye  hear  tell,  Mr.  Mackellar,  o'  Wully  White 
the  wabster  ?  No  ?  Aweel,  sVully  was  an  unco  praying 
kind  o'  man ;  a  driegh  body,  nane  o'  my  kind,  I  never 
could  abide  the  sight  o'  him  ;  onyway  he  was  a  great 
hand  by  his  way  of  it,  and  he  up  and  rebukit  the  Master 
for  some  of  his  on-goings.  It  was  a  grand  tiling  for  the 
Master  o'  Ball'ntrae  to  tak  up  a  feud  wi'  a'  wabster,  was- 
nae't?"  Macconochie  would  sneer;  indeed  he  never 
took  the  full  name  upon  his  lips  but  with  a  sort  of  a 
whine  of  hatred.  "  But  he  did !  A  fine  employ  it 
was  :  cliapping  at  the  man's  door,  and  crying  'boo  '  in 
his  lum,  and  puttin'  poother  in  his  fire,  and  pee-oys*  in 
his  window  ;  till  the  man  thocht  it  was  auld  Hornie  was 
come  seekin'  him.  Weel,  to  mak  a  lang  story  short, 
Wully  gaed  gyte.  At  the  hinder  end,  they  couldnae  get 
him  frae  his  knees,  but  he  just  roared  and  prayed  and 
grat  straucht  on,  till  he  got   his  release.     It  was  fair 

*  A  kind  of  firework  made  with  damp  powder. 


SUMMARY  OF   EVENTS.  23 

murder,  a'body  said  that.  Ask  John  Paul — he  was 
brawly  ashamed  o'  that  game,  him  that's  sic  a  Christian 
man  !  Grand  doin's  for  the  Master  o'  Ball'ntrae  ! "  I 
asked  him  what  the  Master  had  thought  of  it  himself. 
"  How  would  I  ken  ?  "  says  he,  *'  He  never  said  nae- 
thing."  And  on  again  in  his  usual  manner  of  banning 
and  swearing,  with  every  now  and  again  a  "  Master  of 
Ballantrae  "  sneered  through  his  nose.  It  was  in  one  of 
these  confidences,  that  he  showed  me  the  Carlisle  letter, 
the  print  of  the  horse  shoe  still  stamped  in  the  paper. 
Indeed  that  was  our  last  confidence  ;  for  he  then  ex- 
pressed himself  so  ill-naturedly  of  Mrs.  Henry,  that  I 
had  to  reprimand  him  sharply,  and  must  thenceforth 
hold  him  at  a  distance. 

My  old  lord  was  uniformly  kind  to  Mr.  Henry  ;  he  had 
even  pretty  ways  of  gratitude,  and  would  sometimes  clap 
him  on  the  shoulder  and  say,  as  if  to  the  world  at  large  : 
**  This  is  a  very  good  son  to  me."  And  grateful  he  was 
no  doubt,  being  a  man  of  sense  and  justice.  But  I 
think  that  was  all,  and  I  am  sure  Mr.  Henry  thought 
so.  The  love  was  all  for  the  dead  son.  Not  that  this 
was  often  given  breath  to  ;  indeed  witli  mo  but  once. 
My  lord  had  asked  me  one  day  how  I  got  on  with  Mr. 
Henry,  and  I  had  told  him  the  truth. 

"Ay,"  said  he,  looking  sideways  on  the  burning  fire, 
*'  Henry  is  a  good  lad,  a  very  good  lad,"  said  he.  "  You 
have  heard,  Mr.  Mackellar,  that  I  had  another  son  ?  I 
am  afraid  lie  was  not  so  virtuous  a  lad  as  Mr.  Henry ; 


24  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTKAE. 

but  dear  me,  he's  dead,  Mr.  Mackellar !  and  while  he 
lived  we  were  all  very  proud  of  him,  all  very  proud.  If 
he  was  not  all  he  should  have  been  iu  some  ways,  well, 
perhaps  we  loved  him  better  ! "  Tbis  last  he  said  looking 
musingly  in  the  fire  ;  and  then  to  me,  with  a  great  deal 
of  briskness,  "But  I  am  rejoiced  you  do  so  well  with 
Mr.  Henry.  You  will  find  him  a  good  master."  And 
with  that  he  opened  his  book,  which  was  the  customary 
signal  of  dismission.  But  it  would  be  little  that  he 
read  and  less  that  he  understood;  Culloden  field  and 
the  Master,  these  would  be  the  burthen  of  his  thought ; 
and  the  burthen  of  mine  was  an  unnatural  jealousy  of 
the  dead  man  for  Mr.  Henry's  sake,  that  had  even  then 
begun  to  grow  on  me. 

I  am  keeping  Mrs.  Henry  for  the  last  so  that  this 
expression  of  my  sentiment  may  seem  unwarrantably 
strong  :  the  reader  shall  Judge  for  himself  when  I  have 
done.  But  I  must  first  tell  of  another  matter,  which  was 
the  means  of  bringing  me  more  intimate.  I  had  not  yet 
been  six  months  at  Durrisdeer  when  it  chanced  that 
John  Paul  fell  sick  and  must  keep  his  bed  ;  drink  was 
the  root  of  his  malady,  in  my  poor  thought ;  but  he  was 
tended  and  indeed  carried  himself  like  an  afflicted  saint ; 
and  the  very  minister,  who  came  to  visit  him,  professed 
himself  edified  when  he  went  away.  The  third  morning 
of  his  sickness,  Mr.  Henry  comes  to  me  with  something 
of  a  hang-dog  look. 

"Mackellar,"  says  he,   "  I  wish  I  could  trouble  you 


SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS.  25 

upon  a  little  service.  There  i.s  a  pension  we  pay  ;  it  is 
John's  part  to  carry  it ;  and  now  that  he  is  sick,  I  know 
not  to  whom  I  should  look  unless  it  was  yourself.  The 
matter  is  very  delicate  ;  I  could  not  carry  it  with  my 
own  hand  for  a  sufficient  reason  ;  I  dare  not  send  Alac- 
conochie  who  is  a  talker,  and  I  am — I  have — I  am  desir- 
ous this  should  not  come  to  Mrs.  Henry's  ears,"  says  he, 
and  flushed  to  his  neck  as  he  said  it. 

To  say  truth,  when  I  found  I  was  to  carry  money  to 
one  Jessie  Broun  who  was  no  better  than  she  should  be, 
I  supposed  it  was  some  trip  of  his  own  that  Mr.  Henry 
was  dissembling.  I  was  the  more  impressed  when  the 
truth  came  out. 

It  was  up  a  wynd  off  a  side  street  in  St.  Bride's,  that 
Jessie  had  her  lodging.  The  place  was  very  ill  inhab- 
ited, mostly  by  the  freetrading  sort ;  there  was  a  man 
with  a  broken  head  at  the  entry  ;  half  way  up,  in  a  tav- 
ern, fellows  were  roaring  and  singing,  though  it  was  not 
yet  nine  in  the  day.  Altogether,  I  had  never  seen  a 
worse  neighbourhood  even  in  the  great  city  of  Edinburgh, 
and  I  was  in  two  minds  to  go  back.  Jessie's  room  was 
of  a  23iece  with  her  surroundings  and  herself  no  better. 
She  w^ould  not  give  me  the  receipt  (which  Mr.  Henry 
had  told  me  to  demand,  for  he  was  very  methodical) 
until  she  had  sent  out  for  spirits  and  I  had  pledged  her 
in  a  glass  ;  and  all  the  time  she  carried  on  in  a  light- 
headed, reckless  way,  now  aping  the  manners  of  a  lady, 
now  breaking  into  unseemly  mirth,  now  making  coquet- 


26  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

tish  advances  that  oppressed  me  to  the  ground.  Of  the 
money,  she  spoke  more  tragically. 

"It's  blood  money,"  said  she,  "I  take  it  for  that: 
blood  money  for  the  betrayed.  See  what  I'm  brought 
down  to  !  Ah,  if  the  bonnie  lad  were  back  again,  it 
would  be  changed  days.  But  he's  deid— he's  lyin'  deid. 
amang  the  Hieland  hills — the  bonnie  lad,  the  bonnie 
lad  ! " 

She  had  a  rapt  manner  of  crying  on  the  bonnie  lad, 
clasping  her  hands  and  casting  up  her  eyes,  that  I  think 
she  must  have  learned  of  strolling  players ;  and  I 
thought  her  sorrow  very  much  of  an  affectation,  and 
that  she  dwelled  upon  the  business  because  her  shame 
was  now  all  she  had  to  be  proud  of.  I  will  not  say  I 
did  not  pity  her,  but  it  was  a  loathing  pity  at  the  best ; 
and  her  last  change  of  manner  wiped  it  out.  This  was 
when  she  had  had  enough  of  me  for  an  audience  and. 
had  set  her  name  at  last  to  the  receipt.  "  There  !  "  says 
she,  and  taking  the  most  unwomanly  oaths  upon  her 
tongue,  bade  me  begone  and  carry  it  to  the  Judas  who 
had  sent  me.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  heard  the 
name  applied  to  Mr.  Henry  ;  I  was  staggered  besides  at 
her  sudden  vehemence  of  word  and  manner ;  and  got 
forth  from  the  room,  under  this  shower  of  curses,  like 
a  beaten  dog.  But  even  then  I  was  not  quit ;  for  the 
vixen  threw  up  her  window  and,  leaning  forth,  contin- 
ued to  revile  me  as  I  went  up  the  Avynd ;  the  free- 
traders, coming  to  the  tavern  door,  joined  in  the  mock- 


SUMMARY  OF   EVENTS.  27 

ery ;  and  one  had  even  the  inhumanity  to  set  upon  me 
a  very  savage,  small  dog,  which  bit  me  in  the  ankle. 
This  was  a  strong  lesson,  had  I  required  one,  to  avoid  ill 
company  ;  and  I  rode  home  in  much  pain  from  the 
bite  and  considerable  indignation  of  mind. 

Mr.  Henry  was  in  the  steward's  room,  affecting  em- 
ployment, but  I  could  see  he  was  only  impatient  to  hear 
of  my  errand. 

*'  Well  ?  "  says  he,  as  soon  as  I  came  in  ;  and  when  I 
had  told  him  something  of  what  passed,  and  that  Jessie 
seemed  an  undeserving  woman  and  far  from  grateful  : 
"  She  is  no  friend  to  me,"  said  he  ;  ''but  indeed,  Mac- 
kellar,  I  have  few  friends  to  boast  of  ;  and  Jessie  has 
some  cause  to  be  unjust.  I  need  not  dissemble  what  all 
the  country  knows  :  she  was  not  very  well  used  by  one 
of  our  family."  This  was  the  first  time  I  had  heard 
him  refer  to  the  Master  even  distantly  ;  and  I  think  he 
found  his  tongue  rebellious,  even  for  that  much  ;  but 
presently  he  resumed.  "  This  is  why  I  would  have 
nothing  said.  It  would  give  pain  to  Mrs.  Henry  .  .  . 
and  to  my  father,"  he  added  with  another  flush. 

"Mr.  Henry,"  said  I,  "if  you  will  take  a  freedom  at 
my  hands,  I  would  tell  you  to  let  that  woman  be. 
What  service  is  your  money  to  the  like  of  her  ?  She 
has  no  sobriety  and  no  economy ;  as  for  gratitude,  you 
will  as  soon  get  milk  from  a  whinstone ;  and  if  you  will 
pretermit  your  bounty,  it  will  make  no  change  at  all 
but  just  to  save  the  ankles  of  your  messengers." 


28  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

Mr.  Henry  smiled.  "But  I  am  grieved  about  your 
ankle,"  said  be,  the  next  moment,  with  a  proper 
gravity. 

''And  observe,"  I  continued,  "1  give  you  this  advice 
upon  consideration  ;  and  yet  my  heart  was  touched  for 
the  woman  in  the  I)eginning." 

"  Why  there  it  is,  you  see  !  "  said  Mr.  Henry.  "  And 
you  are  to  remember  that  I  knew  her  once  a  rery  decent 
lass.  Besides  which,  although  I  speak  little  of  my 
family,  I  think  much  of  its  repute." 

And  with  that  he  broke  up  the  talk,  which  was  the 
first  we  had  together  in  such  confidence.  But  the  same 
afternoon,  I  had  the  proof  that  his  father  was  perfectly 
acquainted  with  the  business,  and  that  it  was  only  from 
his  wife  that  Mr.  Henry  kept  it  secret. 

"  I  fear  you  had  a  painful  errand  to-day,"  says  my 
lord  to  me  :  "for  which,  as  it  enters  in  no  way  among 
your  duties,  I  wish  to  thank  you,  and  to  remind  you  at 
the  same  time  (in  case  Mr.  Henry  should  have  neglected) 
how  very  desirable  it  is  that  no  word  of  it  should  reach 
my  daughter.  Reflections  on  the  dead,  Mr.  Mackellar, 
are  doubly  painful." 

Anger  glowed  in  my  heart  ;  and  I  could  have  told 
my  lord  to  his  face  how  little  he  had  to  do,  bolstering 
up  the  image  of  the  dead  in  Mrs.  Henry's  heart,  and 
how  much  better  he  were  employed,  to  shatter  that  false 
idol.  For  by  this  time,  I  saw  very  well  how  the  land 
lay  between  my  patron  and  his  wife. 


SUMMARY   OF  EVENTS.  29 

My  pen  is  clear  enough  to  tell  a  plain  tale  ;  but  to 
render  the  effect  of  an  infinity  of  small  things,  not  one 
great  enough  in  itself  to  be  narrated  ;  and  to  translate 
the  story  of  looks,  and  the  message  of  voices  when  they 
are  saying  no  great  matter  ;  and  to  put  in  half  a  page 
the  essence  of  near  eighteen  months  :  this  is  what  I 
despair  to  accomjolish.  The  fault,  to  be  very  blunt,  lay 
all  in  Mrs.  Henry.  She  felt  it  a  merit  to  have  con- 
sented to  the  marriage,  and  she  took  it  like  a  martyr- 
dom ;  in  which  my  old  lord,  whether  he  knew  it  or  not, 
fomented  her.  She  made  a  merit,  besides,  of  her  con- 
stancy to  the  dead  ;  though  its  name,  to  a  nicer  con- 
science, should  have  seemed  rather  disloyalty  to  the 
living  ;  and  here  also  my  lord  gave  her  his  countenance. 
I  suppose  he  was  glad  to  talk  of  his  loss,  and  ashamed 
to  dwell  on  it  with  Mr.  Ilenry.  Certainly,  at  least,  he 
made  a  little  coterie  apart  in  that  family  of  three,  and 
it  was  the  husband  who  was  shut  out.  It  seems  it  wag 
an  old  custom  when  the  family  were  alone  in  Durris- 
deer,  that  my  lord  should  take  his  wine  to  the  chimney- 
side,  and  Miss  Alison  (instead  of  withdrawing)  should 
bring  a  stool  to  his  knee  and  chatter  to  him  privately  ; 
and  after  she  had  become  my  patron's  wife,  the  same 
manner  of  doing  was  continued.  It  should  have  been 
pleasant  to  behold  this  ancient  gentleman  so  loving  v/itli 
his  daughter;  but  I  was  too  much  a  partisan  of  Mr. 
Henry's,  to  be  anything  but  wroth  at  his  exclusion. 
Manv's  the  time  I  have  seen  him  make  an  obvious  re- 


30  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

solve,  quit  the  table,  and  go  and  join  himself  to  his  wife 
and  my  Lord  Durrisdeer  ;  and  on  their  part,  tliey  were 
never  backward  to  make  him  welcome,  turned  to  him 
smilingly  as  to  an  intruding  child,  and  took  him  into 
their  talk  with  an  effort  so  ill-concealed  that  he  was  soon 
back  again  beside  me  at  the  table ;  whence  (so  great  is 
the  hall  of  Durrisdeer)  we  could  but  hear  the  murmur 
of  voices  at  the  chimney.  There  he  would  sit  and 
watch,  and  I  along  with  him  ;  and  sometimes  by  ray 
lord's  head  sorrowfully  shaken,  or  his  hand  laid  on  Mrs. 
Henry's  head,  or  hers  upon  his  knee  as  if  in  consola- 
tion, or  sometimes  by  an  exchange  of  tearful  looks,  we 
would  draw  our  conclusion  that  the  talk  had  gone  to  the 
old  subject  and  the  shadow  of  the  dead  was  in  the  hall. 

I  have  hours  when  I  blame  Mr,  Henry  for  taking  all 
too  patiently ;  yet  we  are  to  remember  he  was  married 
in  pity,  and  accepted  his  wife  upon  that  term.  And 
indeed  he  had  small  encouragement  to  make  a  stand. 
Once,  I  remember,  he  announced  he  had  found  a  man 
to  replace  the  pane  of  the  stained  window  ;  which,  as 
it  was  he  that  managed  all  the  business,  was  a  thing 
clearly  within  his  attributions.  But  to  the  Master's 
fanciers,  that  pane  was  like  a  relic ;  and  on  the  first 
word  of  any  change,  the  blood  flew  to  Mrs.  Henry's 
face. 

"I  wonder  at  you  ! "  she  cried. 

"  I  wonder  at  myself,"  says  Mr.  Henry,  with  more  of 
bitterness  than  I  had  ever  heard  him  to  express. 


SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS.  31 

Thereupon  my  old  lord  stepped  in  with  his  smooth 
talk,  so  that  before  the  meal  was  at  an  end  all  seemed 
forgotten  ;  only  that,  after  dinner,  when  the  pair  had 
withdrawn  as  usual  to  the  chimneyside,  we  could  see  her 
weeping  with  her  head  upon  his  knee.  Mr.  Henry  kept 
up  the  talk  with  me  upon  some  toj^ic  of  the  estates — he 
could  speak  of  little  else  but  business,  and  was  never  the 
best  of  company  ;  but  he  kept  it  up  that  day  with  more 
continuity,  his  eye  straying  ever  and  again  to  the  chim- 
ney and  his  voice  changing  to  another  key,  but  without 
check  of  delivery.  The  pane,  however,  was  not  replaced  ; 
and  I  believe  he  counted  it  a  great  defeat. 

Whether  he  was  stout  enough  or  no,  God  knows  he 
was  kind  enough.  Mrs.  Henry  had  a  manner  of  con- 
descension with  him,  such  as  (in  a  wife)  would  have 
pricked  my  vanity  into  an  ulcer ;  he  took  it  like  a  favour. 
She  held  him  at  the  staff's  end  ;  forgot  and  then  remem- 
bered and  unbent  to  him,  as  we  do  to  children  ;  bur- 
thened  him  with  cold  kindness ;  reproved  him  with  a 
change  of  colour  and  a  bitten  lip,  like  one  shamed  by 
his  disgrace  :  ordered  him  with  a  look  of  the  eye,  when 
she  was  off  her  guard ;  when  she  was  on  the  watch, 
pleaded  with  him  for  the  most  natural  attentions  as 
though  they  were  unheard  of  favours.  And  to  all  this, 
he  replied  with  the  most  unwearied  service ;  loving,  as 
folk  say,  the  very  ground  she  trod  on,  and  carrying  that 
love  in  his  eyes  as  bright  as  a  lamj).  "When  Miss  Katha- 
rine was  to  be  born,  nothing  would  serve  but  he  must 


32  THE    MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

stay  in  the  room  behind  the  head  of  the  bed.  There  he 
sat,  as  white  (they  tell  uie)  as  a  sheet  and  the  sweat  drop- 
]>ing  from  his  brow  ;  and  the  handkerchief  he  had  in 
his  hand  was  crnshed  into  a  little  ball  no  bigger  than  a 
mnsket  bullet.  Nor  could  he  bear  the  sight  of  Miss 
Katharine  for  many  a  day ;  indeed  I  doubt  if  he  was 
over  what  he  should  have  been  to  my  young  lady ;  for 
the  which  want  of  natural  feeling,  he  was  loudly 
blamed. 

Such  was  the  state  of  this  family  down  to  the  7th 
April,  1749,  when  there  befell  the  first  of  that  series  of 
events  which  were  to  break  so  many  hearts  and  lose  so 
many  lives. 

On  that  day  I  was  sitting  in  my  room  a  little  before 
suppei',  when  John  Paul  burst  open  the  door  with  no 
civility  of  knocking,  and  told  me  tliere  was  one  below 
that  wished  to  speak  with  the  steward ;  sneering  at  the 
name  of  my  office. 

I  asked  what  manner  of  man,  and  what  his  name  was  ; 
and  this  disclosed  the  cause  of  John's  ill  humour;  for 
it  appeared  the  visitor  refused  to  name  himself  except 
to  me,  a  sore  affront  to  the  major-domo's  consequence. 

"Well,"  said  I,  smiling  a  little,  ''I  will  see  what  he 
wants." 

I  found  in  the  entrance  hall  a  big  man  very  plainly 
habited  and  wrapped  in  a  sea  cloak,  like  one  new  landed, 
as  indeed  he  v/as.     Not  far  off  Macconoehie  was  stand- 


SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS.  33 

ing,  with  his  tongue  out  of  his  moatli  and  his  hand  upon 
his  chin,  like  a  dull  fellow  thinking  hard  ;  and  the 
stranger,  who  had  brought  his  cloak  about  his  face,  ap- 
peared uneasy.  He  had  no  sooner  seen  me  coming  than 
he  went  to  meet  me  with  an  effusive  manner. 

"  My  dear  man,"  said  he,  "  a  thousand  apologies  for 
disturbing  you,  but  I'm  in  the  most  awkward  position. 
And  there's  a  son  of  a  ramrod  there  that  I  should  know 
the  looks  of,  and  more  betoken  I  believe  that  he  knows 
mine.  Being  in  this  family,  sir,  and  in  a  place  of  some 
responsibility  (which  was  the  cause  I  took  the  liberty  to 
send  for  you),  you  are  doubtless  of  the  honest  party  ?" 

"  You  may  be  sure  at  least,"  says  I,  "  that  all  of  that 
party  are  quite  safe  in  Durrisdeer." 

"My  dear  man,  it  is  my  very  thought,"  says  he. 
''You  see  I  have  just  been  set  on  shore  here  by  a  very 
honest  man,  whose  name  I  cannot  remember,  and  who 
is  to  stand  off  and  on  for  me  till  morning,  at  some  dan- 
ger to  himself ;  and,  to  be  clear  with  you,  I  am  a  little 
concerned  lest  it  should  be  at  some  to  me.  I  have  saved 
my  life  so  often,  Mr.  —  I  forget  your  name,  which  is 
a  very  good  one — that,  faith,  I  would  be  very  loath  to 
lose  it  after  all.  And  the  son  of  a  ramrod,  whom  I  be- 
lieve I  saw  before  Carlisle  ..." 

"0,  sir,"  said  I,  "you  can  trust  Macconochie  until 
to-morrow." 

"  Well,  and  it's  a  delight  to  hear  you  say  so,"  says  the 
stranger.     "  The  truth  is  that  my  name  is  not  a  very 


34:  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLANTRAE. 

suitable  one  in  this  country  of  Scotland.  With  a  gen- 
tleman like  you,  my  dear  man,  I  would  have  no  conceal- 
ments of  course  ;  and  by  your  leave,  I'll  just  breathe  it 
in  your  ear.  They  call  me  Francis  Burke  :  Colonel 
Francis  Burke  ;  and  I  am  here,  at  a  most  damnable  risk 
to  myself,  to  see  your  masters — if  you'll  excuse  me,  my 
good  man,  for  giving  them  the  name,  for  I'm  siire  it's  a 
circumstance  I  would  never  have  guessed  from  your  ap- 
pearance. And  if  you  would  just  be  so  very  obliging  as 
to  take  my  name  to  them,  you  might  say  that  I  como 
bearing  letters  which  lam  sure  they  will  be  very  rejoiced 
to  have  the  reading  of." 

Colonel  Francis  Burke  was  one  of  the  Prince's  Irish- 
men, that  did  his  cause  such  an  infinity  of  hurt  and 
were  so  much  distasted  of  the  Scots  at  the  time  of  the 
rebellion  ;  and  it  came  at  once  into  my  mind,  how  the 
Master  of  Ballantrae  had  astonished  all  men  by  going 
with  that  party.  In  the  same  moment,  a  strong  fore- 
boding of  the  truth  possessed  my  soul. 

"  If  you  will  step  in  here,"  said  I,  opening  a  chamber 
door,  ''  I  will  let  my  lord  know." 

"  And  I  am  sure  it's  very  good  of  you,  Mr.  What  is 
your  name,"  says  the  Colonel. 

Up  to  the  hall  I  went,  slow  footed.  There  they  were 
all  three,  my  old  lord  in  his  place,  Mrs.  Henry  at  work 
by  the  window,  Mr.  Henry  (as  was  much  his  custom) 
pacing  the  low  end.  In  the  midst  was  the  table  laid 
for  supper.     I  told  them  briefly  what  I  had  to  say.     My 


SUMMAEY   OF   EVENTS.  85 

old  lord  lay  back  in  his  seat.  Mrs.  Henry  sprang  up 
standing  with  a  mechanical  motion,  and  she  and  her 
husband  stared  at  each  other's  eyes  across  the  room  ;  it 
was  the  strangest,  challenging  look  these  two  exchanged, 
and  as  they  looked,  the  colour  faded  in  their  faces. 
Then  Mr.  Henry  turned  to  me ;  not  to  speak,  only  to 
■sign  with  his  finger  ;  but  that  was  enough,  and  I  went 
Jown  again  for  the  Colonel. 

When  we  returned,  these  three  were  in  much  the 
same  position  I  had  left  them  in  ;  I  believe  no  word  had 
passed. 

*'My  lord  Dnrrisdeer  no  doubt?"  says  the  Colonel, 
bowing,  and  my  lord  bowed  in  answer.  ''And  this," 
continues  the  Colonel,  ''  should  be  the  Master  of  Bal- 
lantrae  ?  " 

*'  I  have  never  taken  that  name,"  said  Mr.  Henry ; 
"but  I  am  Henry  Durie  at  your  service." 

Then  the  Colonel  turns  to  Mrs.  Henry,  bowing  with 
his  hat  upon  his  heart  and  the  most  killing  airs  of 
gallantry.  ''  There  can  be  no  mistake  about  so  fine  a 
figure  of  a  lady,"  says  he.  "I  address  the  seductive 
Miss  Alison,  of  whom  I  have  so  often  heard  ?  " 

Once  more  husband  and  wife  exchanged  a  look. 

*'  I  am  Mrs.  Henry  Durie,"  said  she ;  ''  but  before 
my  marriage  my  name  was  Alison  Graeme." 

Then  my  lord  spoke  up.  "  I  am  an  old  man,  Colonel 
Burke,"  said  he,  "and  a  frail  one.  It  will  be  mercy  on 
your  part  to  be  expeditious.     Do  you   bring  me  news 


36  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTEAK 

of — "  he  hesitated,  and  then  the  words  broke  from  liim 
with  a  singnlar  change  of  voice — "  my  son  ?" 

"  My  dear  lord,  I  will  be  ronnd  with  you  like  a  sol- 
dier," said  the  Colonel.     "  I  do." 

My  lord  held  ont  a  wavering  hand  ;  he  seemed  to 
wave  a  signal,  but  whether  it  was  to  give  him  time  or 
to  speak  on,  was  more  than  we  could  guess.  At  length, 
he  got  out  the  one  word — "  Good  ?  " 

"  Why,  tiie  very  best  in  the  creation  !  "  cries  the  Col- 
onel. "For  my  good  friend  and  admired  comrade  is  at 
this  hour  in  the  fine  city  of  Paris,  and  as  like  as  not,  if 
I  know  anything  of  his  habits,  he  will  be  drawing  in  his 
chair  to  a  piece  of  dinner. — Bedad,  I  believe  the  lady's 
fainting." 

Mrs.  llenry  was  indeed  the  colour  of  death,  and 
drooped  against  the  window  frame.  But  when  Mr. 
Henry  made  a  movement  as  if  to  run  to  her,  she 
straightened  with  a  sort  of  shiver.  ''I  am  well,"  she 
said,  with  her  white  lips. 

Mr.  Henry  stopped,  and  his  face  had  a  strong  twitch 
of  anger.  The  next  moment,  he  had  turned  to  the  Col- 
onel. ''You  must  not  blame  yourself,"  says  he,  "for 
this  effect  on  Mrs.  Durie.  It  is  only  natural ;  we  were 
all  brought  up  like  brother  and  sister." 

Mrs.  Henry  looked  at  her  husband  with  something 
like  relief  or  even  gratitude.  In  my  way  of  thinking, 
that  speech  was  tiie  first  step  he  made  in  her  good 
graces. 


SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS.  S) 

'^^  You  must  try  to  forgive  me,  Mrs.  Durie,  for  indeed 
and  I  am  just  an  Irish  savage,"  said  the  Colonel :  "and 
I  deserve  to  be  shot  for  not  breaking  the  matter  more 
artistically  to  a  lady.  But  here  are  the  Master's  own 
letters ;  one  for  each  of  the  three  of  you  ;  and  to  be 
sure  (if  I  know  anything  of  my  friend's  genius)  he  will 
tell  his  own  story  with  a  better  grace." 

He  brought  the  three  letters  forth  as  he  spoke,  ar- 
ranged them  by  their  superscriptions,  presented  the  first 
to  my  lord  who  took  it  greedily,  and  advanced  towards 
Mrs.  Henry  holding  out  the  second. 

But  the  lady  waved  it  back.  *•'  To  my  husband,"  says 
the,  with  a  choked  voice. 

The  Colonel  was  a  quick  man,  but  at  this  he  was  some- 
what non-plussed.  "To  be  sure,"  says  he,  "how  very 
dull  of  me  !     To  be  sure."     But  he  still  held  the  letter. 

At  last  Mr.  Henry  reached  forth  his  hand,  and  there 
was  nothing  to  be  done  but  give  it  up.  Mr.  Henry  took 
the  letters  (both  hers  and  his  own)  and  looked  upon 
their  outside,  with  his  brows  knit  hard  as  if  he  were 
thinking.  He  had  surprised  me  all  through  by  his  ex- 
cellent behaviour ;  but  he  was  to  excel  himself  now. 

"  Let  me  give  you  a  hand  to  your  room,"  said  he  to  his 
wife.  "  This  has  come  something  of  the  suddenest ;  and 
at  any  rate,  you  will  wish  to  read  your  letter  by  yourself." 

Again  she  looked  upon  him  with  the  same  thought  of 
wonder ;  but  he  gave  her  no  time,  coming  straight  to 
where  she  stood.     "It  will  be  better  so,  believe  me," 


38  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

said  he,  "  aud  Colonel  Burke  is  too  considerate  not  to 
excuse  you."  And  with  that  he  took  her  hand  by  the 
fingers,  and  led  her  from  the  hall. 

Mrs.  Henry  returned  no  more  that  night ;  and  when 
Mr.  Henry  went  to  visit  her  next  morning,  as  I  heard 
long  afterwards,  she  gave  him  the  letter  again,  still 
unopened. 

"  0,  read  it  and  be  done  ! "  he  had  cried. 

''Spare  me  that,"  said  she. 

And  by  these  two  speeches,  to  my  way  of  thinking, 
each  undid  a  great  part  of  what  they  had  previously 
done  well.  But  the  letter,  sure  enough,  came  into  my 
hands  aud  by  me  was  burned,  unopened. 

To  be  very  exact  as  to  the  adventures  of  the  Master 
after  Culloden,  I  wrote  not  long  ago  to  Colonel  Burke, 
now  a  Chevalier  of  the  Order  of  St.  Louis,  begging  him 
for  some  notes  in  writing,  since  I  could  scarce  depend 
upon  my  memory  at  so  great  an  interval.  To  confess 
the  truth,  I  have  been  somewhat  embarrassed  by  his  re- 
sponse ;  for  he  sent  me  the  complete  memoirs  of  his  life, 
touching  only  in  places  on  the  Master;  running  to  a 
much  greater  length  than  my  whole  story,  and  not 
everywhere  (as  it  seems  to  me)  designed  for  edification. 
He  begged  in  his  letter,  dated  from  Ettenheim,  that  I 
would  find  a  publisher  for  the  whole,  after  I  had  made 
what  use  of  it  I  required ;  and  I  think  I  shall  best  an- 
swer my  own  purpose  and  fulfil  his  wishes  by  printing 


SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS.  89 

certain  parts  of  it  in  full.  In  this  way  my  readers  will 
have  a  detailed  and  I  believe  a  very  genuine  account 
of  some  essential  matters  ;  and  if  any  publisher  should 
take  a  fancy  to  the  Chevalier's  manner  of  narration,  he 
knows  where  to  apply  for  the  rest,  of  which  there  is 
plenty  at  his  service.  I  put  in  my  first  extract  here,  so 
that  it  may  stand  in  the  place  of  what  the  Chevalier  told 
us  over  our  wine  in  the  hall  of  Durrisdeer ;  but  you  are 
to  suppose  it  was  not  the  brutal  fact,  but  a  very  var- 
nished version  that  he  offered  to  mv  lord. 


THE    MASTER'S    WANDERINGS. 

From  the  Memoirs  of  the  Chevalier  de  Burhe. 

.  .  .  .  I  LEFT  Ruthven  (it's  hardly  necessary  to 
remark)  with  much  greater  satisfaction  than  I  had  come 
to  it ;  but  whether  I  missed  my  way  in  the  deserts,  or 
whether  my  companions  failed  me,  I  soon  found  myself 
alone.  This  was  a  predicament  very  disagreeable ;  for  I 
never  understood  this  horrid  country  or  savage  people, 
and  the  last  stroke  of  the  Prince's  withdrawal  had  made 
us  of  the  Irish  more  unpopular  than  ever.  I  was  re- 
flecting on  my  poor  chances,  when  I  saw  another  horse- 
man on  the  hill,  whom  I  supposed  at  first  to  have  been 
a  phantom,  the  news  of  his  death  in  the  very  front  at 
Culloden  being  current  in  the  army  generally.  This 
was  the  Master  of  Ballantrae,  my  Lord  Durrisdeer's  son, 
a  young  nobleman  of  the  rarest  gallantry  and  parts,  and 
equally  designed  by  nature  to  adorn  a  court  and  to  reap 
laurels  in  the  field.  Our  meeting  was  the  more  welcome 
to  both,  as  he  was  one  of  the  few  Scots  who  had  used 
the  Ii'ish  with  consideration  and  as  he  might  now  be 
of  very  high  utility  in  aiding  my  ei;cape.  Yet  what 
founded  our  particular  friendship  was  a  circumstance  by 
itself,  as  romantic  as  any  fable  of  King  Arthur. 


THE   master's   wanderings.  41 

This  was  on  the  second  day  of  our  flight,  after  we  had 
slept  one  night  in  the  rain  upon  the  inclination  of  a 
mountain.  There  was  an  Appin  man,  Alan  Black  Stew- 
art (or  some  such  name,*  but  I  have  seen  him  since  in 
France)  who  chanced  to  be  passing  the  same  way,  and 
had  a  jealousy  of  my  companion.  Very  uncivil  ex- 
pressions were  exchanged  ;  and  Stewart  calls  upon  the 
Master  to  alight  and  have  it  ont. 

"'Why,  Mr.  Stewart,"  says  the  Master,  "'I  think  at 
the  present  time,  I  would  prefer  to  run  a  race  with 
you."    And  with  the  word  clajis  spurs  to  his  horse. 

Stewart  ran  after  us,  a  childish  thing  to  do,  for  more 
than  a  mile  ;  and  I  could  not  help  laughing,  as  I  looked 
back  at  last  and  saw  him  on  a  hill,  holding  his  hand  to 
his  side  and  nearly  burst  with  running. 

''But  all  the  same,"  I  could  not  help  saying  to  my 
companion,  "  I  would  let  no  man  run  after  me  for  any 
such  proper  purpose,  and  not  give  him  his  desire.  It 
was  a  good  jest,  but  it  smells  a  trifle  cowardly. " 

He  bent  his  brows  at  me.  "1  do  pretty  well,"  says 
he,  "  when  I  saddle  myself  with  the  most  unijopular 
man  in  Scotland,  and  let  that  suffice  for  courage." 

"  0,  bedad,"  says  I,  "  I  could  show  you  a  more  un- 
popular with  the  naked  eye.  And  if  you  like  not  my 
company,  you  can  '  saddle  '  yourself  on  some  one  elsa" 

*  Note  by  Mr.  Mackellar :  Should  not  this  be  Alan  Breck 
Stewart,  afterwards  notorious  as  the  Appin  murderer  ?  The  Chev- 
alier is  sometimes  very  weak  on  names. 


42  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

'*  Colonel  Burke,"  says  he,  "  do  not  let  us  quarrel ; 
and  to  that  effect,  let  me  assure  you  I  am  the  least 
patient  man  in  the  world." 

*'  I  am  as  little  patient  as  yourself,"  said  I.  "  I 
care  not  who  knows  that." 

"At  this  rate,"  says  he,  reining  in,  "  we  shall  not  go 
very  far.  And  I  propose  we  do  one  of  two  things  upon 
the  instant  :  either  quarrel  and  be  done  ;  or  make  a 
sure  bargain  to  bear  everything  at  each  other's  hands." 

"  Like  a  jxair  of  brothers  ?  "  said  I. 

"  I  said  no  such  foolishness,"  he  replied.  "  I  have  a 
brother  of  my  own,  and  I  think  no  more  of  him  than 
of  a  colewort.  But  if  we  are  to  have  our  noses  rubbed 
togetlier  in  this  course  of  flight,  let  us  each  dare  to  be 
ourselves  like  savages,  and  each  swear  that  he  will 
neither  resent  nor  deprecate  the  other.  I  am  a  pretty 
bad  fellow  at  bottom,  and  I  find  the  pretence  of  virtues 
very  irksome." 

"  0,  I  am  as  bad  as  yourself,"  said  I.  "There  is  no 
skim  milk  in  Francis  Burke.  But  which  is  it  to  be  ? 
Fight  or  make  friends  ?  " 

"  Why,"  says  he,  "  I  think  it  will  be  the  best  manner 
to  spin  a  coin  for  it." 

This  proposition  was  too  highly  chivalrous  not  to 
take  my  fancy  ;  and  strange  as  it  may  seem  of  two  well- 
born gentlemen  of  to-day,  we  span  a  half-crown  (like  a 
pair  of  ancient  paladins)  whether  we  were  to  cut  each 
other's  throats  or  be  sworn  friends.     A  more  romantic 


THE  master's  wanderings.  43 

circumstance  can  rarely  have  occurred  ;  and  it  is  one  of 
those  points  in  my  memoirs,  by  which  we  may  see  the 
old  tales  of  Homer  and  the  poets  are  equally  true  to-day, 
at  least  of  the  noble  and  genteel.  The  coin  fell  for 
peace,  and  we  shook  hands  upon  our  bargain.  And  then 
it  was  that  my  companion  explained  to  me  his  thought 
in  running  away  from  Mr.  Stewart,  which  was  certainly 
worthy  of  his  political  intellect.  The  report  of  his 
death,  he  said,  was  a  great  guard  to  him ;  Mr.  Stewart 
having  recognized  him,  had  become  a  danger ;  and  he 
had  taken  the  briefest  road  to  that  gentleman's  silence. 
"  For,"  says  he,  **  Alan  Black  is  too  vain  a  man  to  nar- 
rate any  such  story  of  himself." 

Towards  afternoon,  we  came  down  to  the  shores  of 
that  loch  for  which  we  were  heading  ;  and  there  was  the 
ship  but  newly  come  to  anchor.  She  was  the  Sainte- 
Marie-cles-A7iges,  out  of  the  port  of  Havre-de-Grace. 
The  Master,  after  we  had  signalled  for  a  boat,  asked  me 
if  I  knew  the  captain.  I  told  him  he  was  a  countryman 
of  mine,  of  the  most  unblemished  integrity,  but,  I  was 
afraid,  a  rather  timorous  man. 

"  No  matter,"  says  he.  "  For  all  that,  he  should  cer- 
tainly hear  the  truth." 

I  asked  him  if  he  meant  about  the  battle  ?  for  if  the 
captain  once  knew  the  standard  was  down,  he  would 
certainly  put  to  sea  again  at  once. 

"  And  even  then  !  "  said  he  ;  "  the  arms  are  now  of 
no  sort  of  utility." 


44  THE   MASTER  OF  BALL  ANTE  AE. 

**  My  dear  man,"  said  I,  "who  thinks  of  the  arms? 
But  to  be  sure  we  must  remember  our  friends.  They 
will  be  close  upon  our  heels,  perhaps  the  Prince  himself, 
and  if  the  ship  be  gone,  a  great  number  of  valuable  lives 
may  be  imperilled." 

"The  captain  and  the  crew  have  lives  also,  if  you 
come  to  that,"  says  Ballantrae. 

This  I  declared  was  but  a  quibble,  and  that  I  would 
not  hear  of  the  captain  being  told  :  and  then  it  was  that 
Ballantrae  made  me  a  witty  answer,  for  the  sake  of 
which  (and  also  because  I  have  been  blamed  myself  in 
this  business  of  the  Sainte-Marie-des-Anges)  I  have  re- 
lated the  whole  conversation  as  it  passed. 

"  Frank,"  says  he,  "  remember  our  bargain,  I  must 
not  object  to  your  holding  your  tongvie,  which  I  hereby 
even  encourage  you  to  do  ;  but  by  the  same  terms,  you 
are  not  to  resent  my  telling." 

I  could  not  help  laughing  at  this  ;  though  I  still  fore- 
warned him  what  would  come  of  it. 

"  The  devil  may  come  of  it  for  what  I  care,"  says  the 
reckless  fellow.  "  I  have  always  done  exactly  as  I  felt 
inclined." 

As  is  well  known,  my  prediction  came  true.  The 
captain  had  no  sooner  heard  the  news,  than  he  cut  his 
cable  and  to  sea  again  ;  and  before  morning  broke,  we 
were  in  the  Great  Minch. 

The  ship  was  very  old  ;  and  the  skipper  although  the 
most  honest  of  men  (and  Irish  too)  was  one  of  the  least 


THE  master's  wanderings.  45 

capable.  The  wind  blew  very  boisterous,  and  the  sea 
raged  extremely.  All  that  day,  we  had  little  heart 
whether  to  eat  or  drink  ;  went  early  to  rest  in  some  con- 
cern of  mind  ;  and  (as  if  to  give  us  a  lesson)  in  the  night, 
the  wind  chopped  suddenly  into  the  northeast,  and 
blew  a  hurricane.  We  were  awaked  by  the  dreadful 
thunder  of  the  tempest  and  the  stamping  of  the  mari- 
ners on  deck ;  so  that  I  supposed  our  last  hour  was  cer- 
tainly come  ;  and  the  terror  of  my  mind  was  increased 
out  of  all  measure  by  Ballantrae,  who  mocked  at  my 
devotions.  It  is  in  hours  like  these  that  a  man  of  any 
piety  appears  in  his  true  light,  and  we  find  (what  we  are 
taught  as  babes)  the  small  trust  that  can  be  set  in 
worldly  friends  :  I  would  be  unworthy  of  my  religion,  if  I 
let  this  pass  without  particular  remark.  For  three  days 
we  lay  in  the  dark  in  the  cabin,  and  had  but  a  biscuit  to 
nibble.  On  the  fourth,  the  wind  fell,  leaving  the  ship 
dismasted  and  heaving  on  vast  billows.  The  captain 
had  not  a  guess  of  whither  we  were  blown  ;  he  was  starLf 
ignorant  of  his  trade,  and  could  do  naught  but  bless  the 
Holy  Virgin  :  a  very  good  thing  too,  but  scarce  the 
whole  of  seamanship.  It  seemed  our  one  hope  was  to  be 
picked  up  by  another  vessel  ;  and  if  that  should  prove  to 
be  an  English  ship,  it  might  be  no  great  blessing  to  the 
Master  and  myself. 

The  fifth  and  sixth  days  we  tossed  there  helpless.  The 
seventh,  some  sail  was  got  on  her,  but  she  was  an  un- 
wieldy vessel  at  the  best,  and  we  made  little  but  leeway. 


46  THE    MASTER    OF    BALLANTRAE. 

All  the  time,  indeed,  we  had  been  drifting  to  the  south 
and  west,  and  during  the  tempest  must  luive  driven 
in  that  direction  with  unheard-of  violence.  The  ninth 
dawn  was  cold  and  black,  with  a  great  sea  running,  and 
every  mark  of  foul  weather.  lu  this  situation,  we  were 
overjoyed  to  sight  a  small  ship  on  the  horizon,  and  to 
perceive  her  go  about  and  head  for  the  Saint e- Marie. 
But  our  gratification  did  not  vei'y  long  endure  ;  for  when 
she  had  laid  to  and  lowered  a  boat,  it  was  immediately 
filled  with  disorderly  fellows,  who  sang  and  shouted  as 
they  pulled  across  to  us,  and  swarmed  in  on  our  deck 
with  bare  ciitlasses,  cursing  loudly.  Their  leader  was  a 
horrible  villain,  with  his  face  blacked  and  his  whiskers 
curled  in  ringlets  :  Teach,  his  name ;  a  most  notorious 
pirate.  He  stamped  about  the  deck,  raving  and  crying 
out  that  his  name  was  Satan  and  his  ship  was  called 
Hell.  There  was  something  about  him  like  a  wicked 
child  or  a  half-witted  person,  that  daunted  me  beyond 
expression.  I  whispered  in  the  eai^  of  Ballantrae,  that  I 
would  not  be  the  last  to  volunteer  and  only  prayed  God 
they  might  be  short  of  hands ;  he  approved  my  pur- 
pose with  a  nod. 

"Bedad,"  said  I,  to  Master  Teach,  ''if  you  are  Satan, 
here  is  a  divil  for  ye." 

The  word  pleased  him  ;  and  (not  to  dwell  upon  these 
shocking  incidents)  Ballantrae  and  I  and  two  others 
were  taken  for  recruits,  while  the  skipper  and  all  the 
rest  were  cast  into  the  sea  by  the  method  of  walking  the 


THE  master's  wanderings.  47 

plank.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  seen  this  done ;  my 
heart  died  within  me  at  the  sijectacle  ;  and  Master  Teach 
or  one  of  his  acolytes  (for  my  head  was  too  much  lost  to 
be  precise)  remarked  upon  my  j)ale  face  in  a  very  alarm- 
ing manner.  I  had  the  strength  to  cut  a  step  or  two  of  a 
jig  and  cry  out  some  ribaldry,  which  saved  me  for  that 
time  ;  but  my  legs  were  like  water  when  I  must  get 
down  into  the  skiff  among  these  miscreants  ;  and  what 
with  my  horror  of  my  company  and  fear  of  the  monstrous 
billows,  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  an  Irish  tongue 
and  break  a  jest  or  two  as  we  were  pulled  aboard.  By 
the  blessing  of  God,  there  was  a  fiddle  in  the  pirate  ship, 
wliich  I  had  no  sooner  seen  than  I  fell  uj^on  ;  and  in  my 
quality  of  crowder,  I  had  the  heavenly  good  luck  to  get 
favour  in  their  eyes.  Croivding  Pat,  was  the  name  they 
dubbed  me  with  ;  and  it  was  little  I  cared  for  a  name  so 
long  as  my  skin  was  whole. 

What  kind  of  a  pandemonium  that  vessel  was,  I  can- 
not describe,  but  she  was  commanded  by  a  lunatic,  and 
might  be  called  a  floating  Bedlam.  Drinking,  roaring, 
singing,  quarreling,  dancing,  they  were  never  all  sober  at 
one  time  ;  and  there  were  days  together,  when  if  a  squall 
had  supervened,  it  must  have  sent  us  to  the  bottom,  or 
if  a  king's  ship  had  come  along,  it  would  have  found  us 
quite  helpless  for  defence.  Once  or  twice,  we  sighted  a 
sail,  and  if  we  were  sober  enough,  overhauled  it,  God 
forgive  us  !  and  if  we  were  all  too  drunk,  she  got  away, 
and  I  would  bless  the  saints  under  my  breath.     Teach 


48  THE   MASTER    OF   BALLA^'TRAE. 

ruled,  if  yon  can  call  that  rnle  which  brought  no  order, 
by  the  terror  he  created  ;  and  I  observed  the  man  was 
very  vain  of  his  position.  I  have  known  marshals  of 
France,  ay,  and  even  Highland  chieftains  that  were  less 
openly  puffed  up  ;  which  throws  a  singular  light  on  the 
pursuit  of  honour  and  glory.  Indeed  the  longer  we  live, 
the  more  we  perceive  the  sagacity  of  Aristotle  and  the 
other  old  philosophers ;  and  though  I  have  all  my  life 
been  eager  for  legitimate  distinctions,  I  can  lay  my 
hand  upon  my  heart,  at  the  end  of  my  career,  and 
declare  there  is  not  one — no,  nor  yet  life  itself — which 
is  worth  acquiring  or  preserving  at  the  slightest  cost  of 
dignity. 

It  was  long  before  I  got  jirivate  speech  of  Ballantrae; 
but  at  length  one  night  we  crept  out  upon  the  boltsprit, 
wiien  the  rest  were  better  employed,  and  commiserated 
our  position. 

"None  can  deliver  us  but  the  saints,"  said  I. 

**  My  mind  is  very  different,"  said  Ballantrae  ;  "  for  I 
am  going  to  deliver  myself.  This  Teach  is  the  poorest 
creature  possible  ;  we  make  no  profit  of  him  and  lie  con- 
tinually open  to  capture ;  and,"  says  he,  *'  I  am  not 
going  to  be  a  tarry  pirate  for  nothing,  nor  yet  to  hang  in 
chains  if  I  can  help  it."  And  he  told  me  what  was  in 
his  mind  to  better  the  state  of  the  ship  in  the  way  of  dis- 
cipline, which  would  give  us  safety  for  the  present,  and  a 
sooner  hope  of  delivei'ance  when  they  should  have  gained 
enough  and  should  break  up  their  company. 


THE  master's  wanderings.  49 

!?  confessed  to  him  ingenuously  that  my  nerve  was 
K[mte  shook  amid  those  liorrible  surroundings,  and  I 
durst  scarce  tell  him  to  count  upon  me. 

"I  am  not  very  easy  frightened,"  said  he,  '^nor  very 
easy  beat." 

A  few  days  after,  there  befell  an  accident  v/hich  had 
nearly  hanged  us  all ;  and  offers  the  most  extraordinary 
picture  of  the  folly  that  ruled  in  our  concerns.  We 
were  all  pretty  drunk :  and  some  bedlamite  spying  a 
sail.  Teach  put  the  ship  about  in  chase  without  a 
glance,  and  we  began  to  bustle  up  the  arms  and  boast  of 
the  horrors  that  should  follow.  I  observed  Ballantrae 
stood  quiet  in  the  bows,  looking  under  the  shade  of 
his  hand  ;  but  for  my  part,  true  to  my  policy  among 
these  savages,  I  was  at  work  with  the  busiest  and  passing 
Irish  jests  for  their  diversion. 

*'Eunupthe  colors,"  cries  Teach.     ''Show  the s 

the  Jolly  Eoger!" 

It  was  the  merest  drunken  braggadocio  at  such  a  stage, 
and  might  have  lost  us  a  valuable  prize  ;  but  I  thought 
it  no  part  of  mine  to  reason,  and  I  ran  up  the  black  flag 
with  my  own  hand. 

Ballantrae  steps  presently  aft  with  a  smile  upon  his 
face. 

"You  may  perhaps  like  to  know,  you  drunken  dog,'* 
says  he,  ''  that  you  are  chasing  a  king's  ship." 

Teach  roared  him  the  lie  ;  but  he  ran  at  the  same  time 
to  the  bulwarks,  and  so  did  they  all.     I  have  never  seen 


50  THE    MASTEK   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

SO  many  drunken  men  struck  suddenly  sober.  The 
cruiser  had  gone  about,  upon  our  impudent  display  of 
colours  ;  she  was  just  then  filling  on  the  new  tack  ;  her 
ensign  blew  out  quite  plain  to  see  ;  and  even  as  we 
stared,  there  came  a  puff  of  smoke,  and  then  a  report, 
and  a  shot  plunged  in  the  waves  a  good  way  short  of  us. 
Some  ran  to  the  ropes,  and  got  the  Sarah  round  with 
an  incredible  swiftness.  One  fellow  fell  on  the  rum 
barrel,  which  stood  broached  upon  the  deck,  and  rolled 
it  promptly  overboard.  On  my  part,  I  made  for  the 
Jolly  Eoger,  struck  it,  tossed  it  in  the  sea ;  and  could 
have  flung  myself  after,  so  vexed  was  I  with  our  mis- 
management. As  for  Teach,  he  grew  as  pale  as  death, 
and  incontinently  went  down  to  his  cabin.  Only  twice 
he  came  on  deck  that  afternoon  ;  went  to  the  taffrail ; 
took  a  long  look  at  the  king's  ship,  which  was  still 
on  the  horizon  heading  after  us ;  and  then,  without 
speech,  back  to  his  cabin.  You  may  say  he  deserted 
us ;  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  one  very  capable  sailor  we 
had  on  board,  and  for  the  lightness  of  the  airs  that  blew 
all  day,  we  must  certainly  have  gone  to  the  yard-arm. 

It  is  to  be  supposed  Teach  was  humiliated,  and  per- 
haps alarmed  for  his  position  with  the  crew  ;  and  the 
way  in  which  he  set  about  regaining  what  he  had  lost, 
was  highly  characteristic  of  the  man.  Early  next  day, 
we  smelled  him  burning  sulphur  in  his  cabin  and  crying 
ont  of  "  Hell,  hell !  "  which  was  well  understood  among 
the  crew,  and  filled  their  minds  with  apprehension.   Pres* 


THE    master's    wanderings.  51 

ently  he  comes  on  deck,  a  perfect  figure  of  fun,  his  face 
blacked,  his  hair  and  whiskei's  curled,  his  belt  stuck  full 
of  pistols ;  chewing  bits  of  glass  so  that  the  blood  ran 
down  his  chin,  and  brandishing  a  dirk.  I  do  not  know 
if  he  had  taken  these  manners  from  the  Indians  of  Amer- 
ica, where  he  was  a  native  ;  but  such  was  his  way,  and 
he  would  always  thus  announce  that  he  was  wound  up 
to  horrid  deeds.  The  first  that  came  near  him  was  the 
fellow  who  had  sent  the  rum  overboard  the  day  before; 
him  he  stabbed  to  the  heart,  damning  him  for  a  mu- 
tineer ;  and  then  capered  about  the  body,  raving  and 
swearing  and  daring  us  to  come  on.  It  was  the  silliest 
exhibition  ;  and  yet  dangerous  too,  for  the  cowardly 
fellow  was  plainly  working  himself  up  to  another  mur- 
der. 

All  of  a  sudden,  Ballantrae  stepped  forth.  "  Have  done 
with  this  play-acting,"  says  he.  "Do  you  think  to 
frighten  us  with  making  faces  ?  Wo  saw  nothing  of  you 
yesterday  when  you  were  wanted  ;  and  we  did  well  with- 
out you,  let  me  tell  you  that." 

There  was  a  murmur  and  a  movement  in  the  crew,  of 
pleasure  and  alarm,  I  thought,  in  nearly  equal  parts. 
As  for  Teach,  he  gave  a  barbarous  howl,  and  swung  his 
dirk  to  fling  it,  an  art  in  which  (like  many  seamen)  he 
was  very  expert. 

*' Knock  that  out  of  his  hand  !"  says  Ballantrae,  so 
mdden  and  sharp  that  my  arm  obeyed  him  before  my 
mind  had  understood. 


52  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLANTRAE. 

Teach  stood  like  one  stupid,  never  thinking  on  hia 
pistols. 

*'Go  down  to  your  cabin,"  cries  Ballantrae,  "and 
come  on  deck  again  when  you  are  sober.  Do  you  think 
we  are  going  to  hang  for  you,  you  black-faced,  half- 
witted, drunken  brute  and  butcher  ?  Go  down  !  "  And 
he  stamped  his  foot  at  him  with  such  a  sudden  smart- 
ness that  Teach  fairly  ran  for  it  to  the  companion. 

*'And  now,  mates,"  says  Ballantrae,  '"'a  word  with 
you.  I  don't  know  if  you  are  gentlemen  of  fortune 
for  the  fun  of  the  thing  ;  but  I  am  not,  I  want  to 
make  money,  and  get  ashore  again,  and  spend  it  like  a 
man.  And  on  one  thing  my  mind  is  made  up  :  I  will 
not  hang  if  I  can  help  it.  Come  :  give  me  a  hint ;  I'm 
only  a  beginner  !  Is  there  no  way  to  get  a  little  dis- 
cipline and  common  sense  about  this  business  ?  " 

One  of  the  men  spoke  up  :  he  said  by  rights  they 
should  have  a  quartermaster  ;  and  no  sooner  was  the 
word  out  of  his  mouth,  than  they  were  all  of  that 
opinion.  The  thing  went  by  acclamation,  Ballantrae 
was  made  quartermaster,  the  rum  was  put  in  his  charge, 
laws  were  passed  in  imitation  of  those  of  a  pirate  by  the 
name  of  Eoberts  ;  and,  the  last  proposal  was  to  make  an 
end  of  Teach.  But  Ballantrae  was  afraid  of  a  more 
efficient  captain,  who  might  be  a  counterweight  to  him- 
self, and  he  opposed  this  stoutly.  Teach,  he  said,  was 
good  enough  to  board  ships  and  frighten  fools  with  hia 
blacked  face  and  swearing  ;  we  could  scarce  get  a  better 


THE  master's  wanderings.  53 

man  than  Teach  for  that ;  anri  tjesides  as  the  man  was 
now  disconsidered  and  as  good  as  deposed,  we  might 
reduce  his  proportion  of  the  phmder.  This  carried  it ; 
Teach's  share  was  cut  down  to  a  mere  derision,  being 
actually  less  than  mine ;  and  there  remained  only  two 
points :  whether  he  Avould  consent,  and  who  was  to 
announce  to  him  this  resolution. 

*'  Do  not  let  that  stick  you,"  says  Ballantrae,  *'  I  will 
do  that." 

And  he  stepped  to  the  companion  and  down  alone  into 
the  cabin  to  face  that  drunken  savage. 

''This  is  the  man  for  us,"  cries  one  of  the  hands. 
"  Three  cheers  for  the  quartermaster  ! "  which  were 
given  with  a  will,  my  own  voice  among  the  loudest,  and 
I  dare  say  these  plaudits  had  their  effect  on  Master 
Teach  in  the  cabin,  as  wo  have  seen  of  late  days  how 
shouting  in  the  streets  may  trouble  even  the  minds  of 
legislators. 

What  passed  precisely  was  never  known,  though  some 
of  the  heads  of  it  came  to  the  surface  later  on  ;  and  we 
were  all  amazed  as  well  as  gratified,  when  Ballantrae 
came  on  deck  with  Teach  upon  his  arm,  and  announced 
that  all  had  been  consented. 

I  pass  swiftly  over  those  twelve  or  fifteen  months  in 
which  we  continued  to  keep  the  sea  in  the  North  Atlan- 
tic, getting  our  food  and  water  fi-om  the  ships  we  over- 
hauled and  doing  on  the  whole  a  pretty  fortunate  busi- 
ness.    Sure  no  one   could   wish   to  read  anything  so 


54  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLANTRAE. 

ungenteel  as  the  memoirs  of  a  pirate,  even  an  unwilling 
one  like  me  !  Things  went  extremely  better  with  our 
designs,  and  Ballantrae  kept  his  lead  to  my  admiration 
from  that  day  forth.  I  would  be  tempted  to  suppose 
that  a  gentleman  must  everywhere  be  first,  even  aboard 
a  rover ;  but  my  birth  is  every  whit  as  good  as 
any  Scottish  lord's,  and  I  am  not  ashamed  to  confess 
that  I  stayed  Crowding  Pat  until  the  end,  and  was  not 
much  better  than  the  crew's  buffoon.  Indeed  it  was 
no  scene  to  bring  out  my  merits.  My  health  suffered 
from  a  variety  of  reasons ;  I  was  more  at  home  to  the 
last  on  a  horse's  back  than  a  ship's  deck ;  and  to  be 
ingenuous,  the  fear  of  the  sea  was  constantly  in  my 
mind,  battling  with  the  fear  of  my  companions.  I  need 
not  cry  myself  up  for  courage  ;  I  have  done  well  on 
many  fields  under  the  eyes  of  famous  generals,  and 
earned  my  late  advancement  by  an  act  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished valour  before  many  witnesses.  But  when 
we  must  proceed  on  one  of  our  abordages,  the  heart  of 
Francis  Burke  was  in  his  boots  ;  the  little  egg-shell  skiff 
in  which  we  must  set  forth,  the  horrible  heaving  of  the 
vast  billows,  the  height  of  the  ship  that  we  must  scale, 
the  thought  of  how  many  might  be  there  in  garrison, 
upon  their  legitimate  defence,  the  scowling  heavens 
w'hich  (in  that  climate)  so  often  looked  darkly  down 
upon  our  exploits,  and  the  mere  crying  of  the  wind  in 
my  ears,  were  all  considerations  most  unpalatable  to  my 
valoui.     Besides  which,  as  I  was  alwavs  a  creature  of 


THE  BLEAK    DANGEROUS    SEA   SURROUNDINGS    THAT    MADE    THEIR    ACTS  OF 
PIRACY   FAR  THE  MOST  REVOLTING. 


THE  mastek's  wajstderings.  55 

the  nicest  sensibility,  the  scenes  tliat  must  follow  on 
our  success  tempted  me  as  little  as  the  chances  of  defeat. 
Twice  we  found  women  on  board  ;  and  though  I  have 
seen  towns  sacked,  and  of  late  days  in  France  some 
very  horrid  public  tumults,  there  was  something  in 
the  smallness  of  the  numbers  engaged  and  the  bleak, 
dangerous  sea-surroundings  that  made  these  acts  of 
piracy  far  the  most  revolting.  I  confess  ingenuously 
I  could  never  proceed,  unless  I  was  three  parts  drunk  ; 
it  was  the  same  even  with  the  crew;  Teach  himself 
was  fit  for  no  enterprise  till  he  was  full  of  rum  ;  and  it 
was  one  of  the  most  diflicult  })arts  of  Ballantrae's  per- 
formance, to  serve  us  with  liquor  in  the  proper  quanti- 
ties. Even  this  he  did  to  admiration  ;  being  upon  the 
whole  the  most  capable  man  I  ever  met  with,  and  the 
-one  of  the  most  natural  genius.  He  did  not  even 
scrape  favour  with  the  crew,  as  I  did,  by  continual  buf- 
foonery made  upon  a  very  anxious  heart ;  but  preserved 
on  most  occasions  a  great  deal  of  gravity  and  distance  ; 
so  that  he  was  like  a  parent  among  a  family  of  young 
children  or  a  schoolmaster  with  his  boys.  What  made 
his  part  the  harder  to  perform,  the  men  were  most 
inveterate  grumblers ;  Ballantrae's  discipline,  little  as 
it  was,  was  yet  irksome  to  their  love  of  license;  and 
what  was  worse,  being  kept  sober  they  had  time  ta 
think.  Some  of  them  accordingly  would  fall  to  repent- 
ing their  abominable  crimes ;  one  in  particular,  who 
was  a  good  Catholic  and  with  whom  I  would  sometimes 


56  THE   MASTER  OF   BALLANTRAE. 

steal  apart  for  prayer ;  above  all  in  bad  weather,  fogs, 
lashing  rain  and  the  like,  when  we  would  be  the  less 
observed ;  and  I  am  sure  no  two  criminals  in  the  cart 
have  ever  performed  their  devotions  with  more  anxious 
sincerity.  But  the  rest  having  no  such  grounds  of 
hope,  fell  to  another  pastime,  that  of  computation.  All 
day  long  they  would  be  telling  up  their  shares  or 
glooming  over  the  result.  I  have  said  we  were  pretty 
fortunate.  But  an  observation  fails  to  be  made  :  that 
in  this  world,  in  no  business  that  I  have  tried,  do  the 
profits  rise  to  a  man's  expectations.  We  found  many 
ships  and  took  many  ;  yet  few  of  them  contained  much 
money,  their  goods  were  usually  nothing  to  our  pur- 
pose— what  did  we  want  with  a  cargo  of  ploughs  or 
even  of  tobacco  ? — and  it  is  quite  a  painful  reflection 
how  many  whole  crews  we  have  made  to  walk  the  plank 
for  no  more  than  a  stock  of  biscuit  or  an  anker  or  two 
of  spirit. 

In  the  meanwhile,  our  ship  was  growing  very  foul, 
and  it  was  high  time  we  should  make  for  our  port  de 
carrenacje,  which  was  in  the  estuary  of  a  river  among 
swamps.  It  was  openly  understood,  that  we  should  then 
break  up  and  go  and  squander  our  proportions  of  the 
spoil ;  and  this  made  every  man  greedy  of  a  little  more, 
so  that  our  decision  was  delayed  from  day  to  day. 
What  finally  decided  matters,  was  a  trifling  accident, 
such  as  an  ignorant  person  might  suppose  incidental  to 
our  way  of  life.     But  here  I  must  explain  :  on  only  one 


THE  master's  wanderings.  57 

of  all  the  ships  we  boarded,  the  first  ou  which  we  found 
women,  did  we  meet  with  any  genuine  resistance.  On 
that  occasion,  we  had  two  men  killed,  and  several  in- 
jured, and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  gallantry  of  Ballan- 
trae,  we  had  surely  been  beat  back  at  last.  Everywhere 
else,  the  defence  (where  there  was  any  at  all)  was  what 
the  worst  troops  in  Europe  would  have  laughed  at ;  so 
tliat  the  most  dangerous  jiart  of  our  employment  was  to 
clamber  up  the  side  of  the  ship  ;  and  I  have  even  known 
the  poor  souls  on  board  to  cast  us  a  line,  so  eager  were 
they  to  volunteer  instead  of  walking  the  plank.  This 
constant  immunity  had  made  our  fellows  very  soft,  so 
that  I  understood  how  Teach  had  made  so  deep  a  mark 
upon  their  minds  ;  for  indeed  the  company  of  that 
lunatic  was  the  chief  danger  in  our  way  of  life.  The 
accident  to  which  I  have  referred  was  this.  We  had 
sighted  a  little  full-rigged  ship  very  close  under  our 
board  in  a  haze ;  she  sailed  near  as  well  as  we  did — I 
should  be  nearer  truth,  if  I  said  near  as  ill ;  and  we 
cleared  the  bow-chaser  to  see  if  we  could  bring  a  spar  or 
two  about  their  ears.  The  swell  was  exceeding  great ; 
the  motion  of  the  ship  beyond  description  ;  it  was  little 
wonder  if  our  gunners  should  fire  thrice  and  be  still 
quite  broad  of  what  they  aimed  at.  But  in  the  mean- 
while, the  chase  had  cleared  a  stern  gun,  the  thickness 
of  the  air  concealing  them  ;  and  being  better  marksmen, 
their  first  shot  struck  us  in  the  bows,  knocked  our  two 
gunners  into  mince  meat,  so  that  wc  were  all  sprinkled 


58  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

with  the  blood,  and  phingod  tlirougli  the  deck  into  the 
fore  castle,  where  we  slept.  Ballanti'ae  would  have  held 
on  ;  indeed  there  was  nothing  in  this  contretemps  to 
affect  the  mind  of  any  soldier;  but  he  had  a  quick  per- 
ception of  the  men's  wishes,  and  it  was  plain  this  lucky 
shot  had  given  them  a  sickener  of  their  trade.  In  a  mo- 
ment, they  were  all  of  one  mind  :  the  chase  was  drawing 
away  from  us,  it  was  needless  to  hold  on,  the  Sarah  was 
too  foul  to  overhaul  a  bottle,  it  was  mere  foolery  to  keep 
the  sea  with  her ;  and  on  these  pretended  grounds,  her 
head  was  incontinently  put  about  and  the  course  laid 
for  the  river.  It  was  strange  to  see  what  merriment  fell 
on  that  ship's  company,  and  how  they  stamped  about 
the  deck  jesting,  and  each  computing  what  increase  had 
come  to  his  share  by  the  death  of  the  two  gunners. 

We  were  nine  days  making  our  port,  so  light  were  the 
airs  we  had  to  sail  on,  so  foul  the  ship's  bottom  ;  but 
early  on  the  tenth,  before  dawn,  and  in  a  light,  lifting 
haze,  we  passed  the  head.  A  little  after,  the  haze  lifted, 
and  fell  again,  showing  ua  a  cruiser  very  close.  This 
was  a  sore  blow,  happening  so  near  our  refuge.  There 
was  a  great  debate  of  whether  she  had  seen  us,  and  if  so 
whether  it  was  likely  they  had  recognized  the  Sarah. 
We  were  very  careful,  by  destroying  every  member  of 
those  crews  we  overhauled,  to  leave  no  evidence  as  to  our 
own  persons  ;  but  the  appearance  of  the  Sarah  herself 
we  could  not  keep  so  private  ;  and  above  all  of  late, 
since  she  had  been  foul  and  we  had  pursued  many  ships 


THE  master's  wanderings.  59 

without  success,  it  was  plain  that  her  description  had 
been  often  published.  I  supposed  this  alert  would  have 
made  us  separate  upon  the  instant.  But  here  again 
tliat  original  genius  of  Ballantrae's  had  a  surprise  in 
store  for  me.  He  and  Teach  (and  it  was  the  most  re- 
markable step  of  his  success)  had  gone  hand  in  hand 
since  the  first  day  of  his  appointment.  1  often  ques- 
tioned him  upon  the  fact  and  never  got  an  answer  but 
once,  when  he  told  me  he  and  Teach  had  an  understand- 
ing **  which  would  very  much  surprise  the  crew  if  they 
should  hear  of  it,  and  would  surprise  himself  a  good 
deal  if  it  was  carried  out."  Well,  here  again,  he  and 
Teach  were  of  a  mind  ;  and  by  their  joint  procurement, 
the  anchor  was  no  sooner  down,  than  the  whole  crew 
went  off  upon  a  scene  of  drunkenness  indescribable.  By 
afternoon,  we  were  a  mere  shipful  of  lunatical  persons, 
throwing  of  things  overboard,  howling  of  different  songs 
at  the  same  time,  quarrelling  and  falling  together  and 
then  forgetting  our  quarrels  to  embrace.  Ballantrae 
had  bidden  me  drink  nothing  and  feign  drunkenness  as 
I  valued  my  life ;  and  I  have  never  passed  a  day  so 
wearisomely,  lying  the  best  part  of  the  time  upon  the 
forecastle  and  watching  the  swamps  and  thickets  by 
which  our  little  basin  was  entirely  surrounded  for  the 
eye.  A  little  after  dusk,  Ballantrae  stumbled  up  to  my 
side,  feigned  to  fall,  Avith  a  drunken  laugh,  and  before 
he  got  his  feet  again,  whispered  me  to  ''reel  down  into 
the  cabin  and  seem  to  fall  asleep  upon  a  locker,  for 


60  THE   MA.STER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

there  would  be  need  of  me  soon."  I  did  as  I  was  told, 
and  coming  into  the  cabi]i,  where  it  was  quite  dark,  let 
myself  fall  on  the  first  locker.  There  was  a  man  there 
already;  by  the  way  he  stirred  and  threw  me  oil,  I  could 
not  think  he  was  mucli  in  liquor  ;  and  yet  when  I  had 
found  another  place,  he  seemed  to  continue  to  sleep  on. 
My  heart  now  beat  very  hard,  for  I  saw  some  desperate 
matter  was  in  act.  Presently  down  came  Ballantrae,  lit 
the  lamp,  looked  about  the  cabin,  nodded  as  if  pleased, 
and  on  deck  again  without  a  word.  I  peered  out  from 
between  my  fingers,  and  saw  there  were  three  of  us 
slumbering,  or  feigning  to  slumber,  on  the  lockers  :  my- 
self, one  Button  and  one  Grady,  both  resolute  men.  On 
deck,  the  rest  were  got  to  a  pitch  of  revelry  quite  beyond 
the  bounds  of  what  is  human;  so  that  no  reasonable 
name  can  describe  the  sounds  they  were  now  making.  I 
have  heard  many  a  drunken  bout  in  my  time,  many  on 
board  that  very  Sarah,  but  never  anything  the  least  like 
this,  which  made  me  early  suppose  the  liquor  had  been 
tampered  with.  It  was  a  long  while  before  these  yells 
and  howls  died  out  into  a  sort  of  miserable  moaning, 
and  then  to  silence ;  and  it  seemed  a  long  while  after 
that,  before  Ballantrae  came  down  again,  this  time  with 
Teach  npon  his  heels.  The  latter  cursed  at  the  sight  of 
us  three  upon  the  lockers. 

"Tut,"  says  Ballantrae,  *'you  might  fire  a  pistol  at 
their  ears.  You  know  what  stuff  they  have  been  swal- 
lowing." 


THE   master's   wanderings.  61 

There  was  a  hatch  in  the  cabin  floor,  and  under  that 
the  richest  part  of  the  booty  was  stored  against  the  day  of 
division.  It  fastened  with  a  ring  and  three  padlocks,  the 
keys  (for  greater  security)  being  divided  ;  one  to  Teach, 
one  to  BaUantrae,  and  one  to  the  mate,  a  man  called 
Hammond.  Yet  I  was  amazed  to  see  they  were  now  all 
in  the  one  hand  ;  and  3-et  more  amazed  (still  looking 
through  my  fingers)  to  observe  Ballantrae  and  Teach 
bring  up  several  packets,  four  of  them  in  all,  very  care- 
fully made  up  and  with  a  loop  for  carriage. 

'^  And  now,"  says  Teach,  "  let  us  be  going." 

"  One  word,"  says  Ballantrae,  "  I  have  discovered 
there  is  another  man  besides  yourself  who  knows  a  pri- 
vate path  across  the  swamp.  And  it  seems  it  is  shorter 
than  yours." 

Teach  cried  out,  in  that  case,  they  were  undone. 

*'I  do  not  know  for  that,"  says  Ballantrae.  "For 
there  are  several  other  circumstances  with  which  I  must 
acquaint  you.  First  of  all,  there  is  no  bullet  in  your 
pistols  which  (if  you  remember)  I  was  kind  enough  to 
load  for  both  of  us  this  morning.  Secondly,  as  there  is 
some  one  else  who  knows  a  passage,  you  must  think  it 
highly  improbable  I  should  saddle  myself  with  a  lunatic 
like  you.  Thirdly,  these  gentlemen  (who  need  no  longer 
pretend  to  be  asleep)  are  those  of  my  party,  and  will 
now  proceed  to  gag  and  bind  you  to  the  mast ;  and  when 
your  men  awaken  (if  they  ever  do  awake  after  the  drugs 
we  have  mingled  in  their  liquor)  I  am  sure  they  will  be 


62  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

60  obliging  as  to  deliver  you,  and  yon  will  have  no  diffi- 
culty, I  daresay,  to  explain  the  business  of  the  keys." 

Not  a  word  said  Teach,  but  looked  at  us  like  a  fright- 
ened baby,  as  we  gagged  and  bound  him. 

"  Now  you  see,  you  moon-calf,"  says  Ballantrae,  "  wiiy 
we  made  four  packets.  Heretofore  you  have  been  called 
Captain  Teach,  but  I  think  you  are  now  rather  Captain 
Learn." 

That  was  our  last  word  on  board  the  Sarah,  we  four 
with  our  four  packets  lowered  ourselves  softly  into  a  skiff, 
and  left  that  ship  behind  us  as  silent  as  the  grave,  only 
for  the  moaning  of  some  of  the  drunkards.  There  was 
a  fog  about  breast-high  on  the  waters  ;  so  that  Button, 
who  knew  the  jxassage,  must  stand  on  his  feet  to  direct 
our  rowing ;  and  this,  as  it  forced  us  to  row  gently,  was 
the  means  of  our  deliverance.  We  were  yet  but  a  little 
way  from  the  ship,  when  it  began  to  come  gray,  and  the 
birds  to  fly  abroad  upon  the  water.  All  of  a  sudden, 
Dutton  clapped  down  upon  his  hams,  and  whispered  us 
to  be  silent  for  our  lives,  and  hearken.  Sure  enough, 
we  heard  a  little  faint  creak  of  oars  upon  one  hand,  and 
then  again,  and  further  off,  a  creak  of  oars  upon  the 
other.  It  was  clear,  we  hud  l)een  sighted  yesterday  in 
the  morning;  here  were  the  cruiser's  boats  to  cut  us 
out;  here  were  we  defenceless  in  their  very  midst.  Sure, 
never  were  poor  souls  more  perilously  placed  ;  and  as  we 
lay  there  on  our  oars,  praying  God  the  mist  might  hold, 
the  sweat  poured  from  my  brow.     Presently  we  heard 


THE  master's  wanderings.  63 

one  of  the  boats,  where  we  might  have  thrown  a  biscuit 
in  her.  "Softly,  men,"  we  heard  an  officer  whisper; 
and  I  marvelled  they  could  not  hear  the  drumming  of 
my  heart. 

'* Never  mind  the  path,"  says  Ballantrae,  ''we  must 
get  shelter  anyhow ;  let  us  pull  straight  ahead  for  the 
sides  of  the  basin." 

This  we  did  with  the  most  anxious  precaution,  rowing, 
as  best  we  could,  upon  our  hands,  and  steering  at  a  ven- 
ture in  the  fog  which  was  (for  all  that)  our  only  safety. 
But  heaven  guided  us  ;  we  touched  ground  at  a  thicket; 
scrambled  ashore  with  our  treasure ;  and  having  no 
other  way  of  concealment,  and  the  mist  beginning  al- 
ready to  lighten,  hove  down  the  skiff  and  let  her  sink. 
"We  were  still  but  new  under  cover  when  the  sun  rose  ; 
and  at  the  same  time,  from  the  midst  of  the  basin,  a 
great  shouting  of  seamen  sprang  up,  and  we  knew  the 
Sarah  was  being  boarded.  I  heard  afterwards  the  offi- 
cer that  took  her  got  great  honour  ;  and  it's  true  the  ap- 
proach was  creditably  managed,  but  I  think  he  had  an 
easy  capture  when  he  came  to  board.* 

I  was  still  blessing  the  saints  for  my  escape  ;  when  I 

*  Note  hy  Mr.  MaclceUar.  This  Teach  of  the  Sarah  must  not 
be  confused  with  the  celebrated  Blackhcard.  The  dates  and  facts 
by  no  means  tally.  It  is  possible  the  second  Teach  may  have  at 
once  borrowed  the  name  and  imitated  the  more  excessive  part  of 
his  manners  from  the  first.  Even  the  Master  of  Ballantrae  could 
make  admirers. 


64  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLAKTRAE. 

became  aware  we  were  in  trouble  of  another  kind.  We 
were  here  landed  at  random  in  a  vast  and  dangerous 
swamp  ;  and  how  to  come  at  the  path  was  a  concern  of 
doubt,  fatigue  and  peril.  Dutton,  indeed,  was  of  opin- 
ion we  should  wait  until  the  ship  was  gone,  and  fish  up 
the  skiff  ;  for  any  delay  would  be  more  wise  than  to  go 
blindly  ahead  in  that  morass.  One  went  back  accord- 
ingly to  the  basin-side  and  (peering  through  the  thicket) 
saw  the  fog  already  quite  drunk  up  and  English  colours 
flying  on  the  Sarah,  but  no  movement  made  to  get  her 
under  way.  Our  situation  was  now  very  doubtful.  The 
swamp  was  an  unhealthful  place  to  linger  in ;  we  had 
been  so  greedy  to  bring  treasures,  that  we  had  brought 
but  little  food  ;  it  was  highly  desirable,  besides,  that  we 
should  get  clear  of  the  neighbourhood  and  into  the  settle- 
ments, before  the  news  of  the  capture  went  abroad  ;  and 
against  all  these  considerations,  there  was  only  the  peril 
of  the  passage  on  the  other  side.  I  think  it  not  wonder- 
ful we  decided  on  the  active  part. 

It  was  already  blistering  hot,  when  we  set  forth  to 
pass  the  marsh,  or  rather  to  strike  the  path,  by  com- 
pass. Dutton  took  the  compass,  and  one  or  other  of  us 
three  carried  his  proportion  of  the  treasure ;  I  promise 
you  he  kept  a  sharp  eye  to  his  rear,  for  it  was  like  the 
man's  soul  that  he  must  trust  us  with.  The  thicket  was 
as  close  as  a  bush  ;  the  ground  very  treacherous,  so  that 
we  often  sank  in  the  most  terrifying  manner,  and  must 
go  round  about ;  the  heat,  besides,  was  stifling,  the  air 


THE  master's  wanderings.  65 

singular!}^  heavy,  and  the  stinging  insects  abounded  in 
such  myriads  that  each  of  us  walked  under  his  own 
cloud.  It  has  often  been  commented  on,  how  much 
better  gentlemen  of  birth  endure  fatigue  than  persons 
of  the  rabble;  so  that  walking  officers,  who  must  tramp 
in  the  dirt  beside  their  men,  shame  them  by  their  con- 
stancy. This  was  well  to  be  observed  in  the  present  in- 
stance ;  for  here  were  Ballantrae  and  I,  two  gentlemen 
of  the  highest  breeding,  on  the  one  hand ;  and  on  the 
other,  Grady,  a  common  mariner,  and  a  man  nearly  a 
giant  in  physical  strength.  The  case  of  Button  is  not 
in  point  for  I  confess  he  did  as  well  as  any  of  us.*  But 
as  for  Grady  he  began  early  to  lament  his  case,  tailed  in 
the  rear,  refused  to  carry  Button's  packet  Avlien  it  came 
his  turn,  clamoured  continually  for  rum  (of  which  we 
had  too  little)  and  at  last  even  threatened  us  from  be- 
hind with  a  cocked  pistol,  unless  we  should  allow  him 
rest.  Ballantrae  would  have  fought  it  out,  I  believe;  but 
I  prevailed  with  him  the  other  way ;  and  we  made  a  stop 
and  ate  a  meal.  It  seemed  to  benefit  Grady  little  ;  he 
was  in  the  rear  again  at  once,  growling  and  bemoaning 
his  lot ;  and  at  last,  by  some  carelessness,  not  having 
followed  properly  in  our  tracks,  stumbled  into  a  deep 
part  of  the  slough  where  it  was  mostly  water,  gave  some 

*  Note  by  Mr.  Mackellar :  And  is  not  this  the  whole  explana- 
tion ?  since  this   Button,  exactly  like  the  officers,  enjoyed  the 

stimulus  of  some  responsibility. 
5 


66  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

very  dreadful  screams,  and  before  we  could  come  to  his 
aid,  had  sunk  uloug  Avith  liis  booty.  His  fate  and 
above  all  tlicse  screams  of  his  appalled  us  to  the  soul ; 
yet  it  was  on  tlie  whole  a  fortunate  circumstance  and 
the  means  of  our  deliverance.  For  it  moved  Dutton  to 
mount  into  a  tree,  whence  he  was  able  to  perceiA'e  and  to 
show  me,  who  had  climbed  after  him,  a  high  piece  of 
the  wood  which  was  a  landmark  for  the  path.  He  went 
forward  the  more  carelessly,  I  must  suppose ;  for  pres- 
ently we  saw  him  sink  a  little  down,  draw  up  his  feet 
and  sink  again,  and  so  twice.  Then  he  turned  his  face 
to  us,  pretty  white. 

"Lend  a  hand,"  said  he,  ''  I  am  in  a  bad  place." 

"1  don't  know  about  that,"  says  Ballantrae,  standing 
still. 

Dutton  broke  out  into  the  most  violent  oaths,  sinking 
a  little  lower  as  he  did,  so  that  the  mud  was  nearly  to 
his  waist ;  and  plucking  a  pistol  from  his  belt,  "  Help 
me,"  he  cries,  "  or  die  and  be  damned  to  you  ! " 

*'Nay,"  says  Ballantrae,  "  I  did  but  jest.  I  am  com- 
ing." And  he  set  down  his  own  packet  and  Button's, 
which  he  was  then  carrying.  ''Do  not  venture  near 
till  we  see  if  you  are  needed,"  said  he  to  me,  and  went 
forward  alone  to  where  the  man  was  bogged.  He  was 
quiet  now,  though  he  still  held  the  pistol ;  and  the 
marks  of  terror  in  his  countenance  were  very  moving  to 
behold. 

*'  For  the  Lord's  sake,"  says  he,  "  look  sharp." 


THE  master's  wanderings.  67 

Ballantrae  was  now  got  close  up.  "  Keep  still,"  says 
he  and  seemed  to  consider;  and  then  ''Reach  out  both 
your  hands  !  " 

Dutton  laid  down  his  pistol,  and  so  watery  was  the 
top  surface,  that  it  went  clear  out  of  sight ;  with  an 
oath,  he  stooped  to  snatch  it ;  and  as  he  did  so,  Ballan- 
trae leaned  forth  and  stabbed  him  between  the  shoul- 
ders. Up  went  his  hands  over  his  head,  I  know  not 
whether  with  the  pain  or  to  ward  himself  ;  and  the 
next  moment  he  doubled  forward  in  the  mud, 

Ballantrae  was  already  over  the  ankles,  but  he 
plucked  himself  out  and  came  back  to  me,  where  I 
stood  with  my  knees  smiting  one  another.  "  The  devil 
take  you,  Francis  !  "  says  he.  "  I  believe  you  are  a  half- 
hearted fellow  after  all.  I  have  only  done  Justice  on  a 
pirate.  And  here  we  arc  quite  clear  of  the  Sarah ! 
Who  shall  now  say  that  we  have  dipped  our  hands  in 
any  irregularities  ?  " 

I  assured  him  he  did  me  injustice ;  but  my  sense 
of  humanity  was  so  much  affected  by  the  horridness 
of  the  fact  that  I  could  scarce  find  breath  to  answer 
with. 

"  Come,"  said  he,  "  you  must  be  more  resolved.  TJie 
need  for  this  fellow  ceased  when  he  had  shown  you 
where  the  path  ran  ;  and  you  cannot  deny  I  would  have 
been  daft  to  let  slip  so  fair  an  opportunity." 

I  could  not  deny  but  he  was  right  in  principle  ;  nor 
yet  could   I   refrain   from  shedding  tears,  of   which  I 


68  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

tliink  no  man  of  valour  need  have  been  ashamed  ;  and 
it  was  not  until  I  had  a  share  of  the  rum  that  I  was 
able  to  proceed.  I  repeat  I  am  far  from  ashamed  of 
my  generous  emotiou  ;  mercy  is  honourable  in  the 
warrior ;  and  yet  I  cannot  altogether  censure  Ballan- 
trae,  whose  step  was  really  fortunate,  as  we  struck  the 
path  without  further  misadventure,  and  the  same  night, 
about  sundown,  came  to  the  edge  of  the  morass. 

We  were  too  weary  to  seek  far  ;  on  some  dry  sands 
still  warm  with  the  day's  sun,  and  close  under  a  wood 
of  pines,  we  lay  down  and  were  instantly  plunged  in 
sleep. 

We  awaked  the  next  morning  very  early,  and  began 
with  a  sullen  spirit  a  conversation  that  came  near 
to  end  in  blows.  We  were  now  cast  on  shore  in  the 
southern  provinces,  thousands  of  miles  from  any 
Trench  settlement ;  a  dreadful  journey  and  a  thousand 
perils  lay  in  front  of  us ;  and  sure,  if  there  was  ever 
need  for  amity,  it  was  in  such  an  hour.  I  must  sup- 
j)0se  that  Ballantrae  had  suffered  in  his  sense  of  what 
is  truly  polite  ;  indeed,  and  there  is  nothing  strange 
in  the  idea,  after  the  sea  wolves  we  had  consorted  with 
so  long ;  and  as  for  myself  he  fubbed  me  off  unhand- 
somely and  any  gentleman  would  have  resented  his  be- 
haviour. 

I  told  him  in  what  light  I  saw  his  conduct ;  he 
walked  a  little  off,  I  following  to  upbraid  him  ;  and  at 
last  he  stopped  me  with  his  hand. 


^  THE  master's  wanderings.  69 

''Frank,"  says  he,  ''you  know  what  we  swore  ;  and 
yet  there  is  no  oath  invented  would  induce  me  to  swal- 
low such  expressions,  if  I  did  not  regard  you  with  sin- 
cere affection.  It  is  impossible  you  should  doubt  me 
there  :  I  have  given  proofs.  Dutton  I  had  to  take,  be- 
cause he  knew  the  pass,  and  Grady  because  Dutton 
would  not  move  without  him  ;  but  what  call  was  there 
to  carry  you  along  ?  You  are  a  perpetual  danger  to  me 
with  your  cursed  Irish  tongue.  By  rights  you  should 
now  be  in  irons  in  the  cruiser.  And  you  quarrel  with 
me  like  a  baby  for  some  trinkets  ! " 

I  considered  this  one  of  the  most  unhandsome  speeches 
ever  made  ;  and  indeed  to  this  day  I  can  scarce  reconcile 
it  to  my  notion  of  a  gentleman  that  was  my  friend.  I 
retorted  upon  him  with  his  Scotch  accent,  of  which  he 
had  not  so  much  as  some,  but  enough  to  be  very  barbar- 
ous and  disgusting,  as  I  told  him  plainly  ;  and  the 
affair  would  have  gone  to  a  great  length,  but  for  an 
alarming  intervention. 

We  had  got  some  way  off  ujDon  the  sand.  The  place 
where  we  had  slept,  with  the  packets  lying  undone  and 
the  money  scattered  openly,  was  now  between  us  and 
the  pines ;  and  it  was  out  of  these  the  stranger  must 
have  come.  There  he  was  at  least,  a  great  hulking  fel- 
low of  the  country,  with  a  broad  axe  on  his  shoulder, 
looking  open-mouthed,  now  at  the  treasure  which  was 
just  at  his  feet,  and  now  at  our  disputation  in  which  we 
had   gone  far  enough    to  have  weapons  in  our  haiids. 


70  THE    MASTER  OF   BALLANTRAE. 

We  had  no  sooner  observed  him  than  he  found  his  legs 
and  made  ofE  again  among  the  pines. 

This  was  no  scene  to  put  our  minds  at  rest :  a  couple 
of  armed  men  in  sea-clothes  found  quarrelling  over  a 
treasure,  not  many  miles  from  where  a  pirate  had  been 
captured — here  was  enough  to  bring  the  whole  country 
about  our  ears.  The  quarrel  was  not  even  made  up  ;  it 
was  blotted  from  our  minds  ;  and  we  got  our  packets  to- 
gether in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  and  made  off  running 
with  the  best  will  in  the  world.  But  the  trouble  was, 
we  did  not  know  in  what  direction,  and  must  continu- 
ally return  upon  our  steps.  Ballantrae  had  indeed  col- 
lected what  he  could  from  Dutton  ;  but  it's  hard  to 
travel  upon  hearsay ;  and  the  estuary,  which  spreads 
into  a  vast  irregular  harbour,  turned  us  off  upon  every 
side  with  a  new  stretch  of  water. 

We  were  near  beside  ourselves  and  already  qiiite 
spent  with  running,  when  coming  to  the  top  of  a  dune, 
we  saw  we  were  again  cut  off  by  another  ramification  of 
the  bay.  This  was  a  creek,  however,  very  different  from 
those  that  had  arrested  us  before ;  being  set  in  rocks, 
and  so  precipitously  deep,  that  a  small  vessel  was  able  to 
lie  alongside,  made  fast  with  a  hawser  ;  and  her  crew  had 
laid  a  plank  to  the  shore.  Here  they  had  lighted  a  fire 
and  were  sitting  at  their  meal.  As  for  the  vessel  her- 
self, she  was  one  of  those  they  build  in  the  Bermudas. 

The  love  of  gold  and  the  great  hatred  that  everybody 
has  to  pirates  were  motives  of  the  most  influential,  and 


THE   master's   wanderings.  71 

would  certainly  raise  the  country  in  our  pursuit.  Be- 
sides it  was  now  plain  we  were  on  some  sort  of  strag- 
gling peninsula  like  the  fingers  of  a  hand  ;  and  the 
wrist,  or  passage  to  the  mainland,  which  we  should  have 
taken  at  the  first,  was  by  this  time  not  improbably  se- 
cured. These  considerations  put  us  on  a  bolder  coun- 
sel. For  as  long  as  we  dared,  looking  every  moment  to 
hear  sounds  of  the  chase,  we  lay  among  some  bushes  on 
the  top  of  the  dune  ;  and  having  by  this  means  secured 
a  little  breath  and  recomposed  our  appearance,  we 
strolled  down  at  last,  with  a  great  affectation  of  care- 
lessness, to  the  party  by  the  fire. 

It  was  a  trader  and  his  negroes,  belonging  to  Albany 
in  the  province  of  New  York,  and  now  on  the  way  home 
from  the  Indies  with  a  cargo  ;  his  name  I  cannot  recall. 
We  were  amazed  to  learn  he  had  put  in  here  from  ter- 
ror of  the  Sarah ;  for  we  had  no  thought  our  exploits 
had  been  so  notorious.  As  soon  as  the  Albanian  heard 
she  had  been  taken  the  day  before,  he  jumped  to  his 
feet,  gave  us  a  cup  of  spirits  for  our  good  news,  and 
sent  his  negroes  to  get  sail  on  the  Bermudan.  On  our 
side,  we  profited  by  the  dram  to  become  more  confiden- 
tial, and  at  last  offered  ourselves  as  passengers.  He 
looked  askance  at  our  tarry  clothes  and  pistols,  and  re- 
plied civilly  enough  that  he  had  scarce  accommodation 
for  himself ;  nor  could  either  our  prayers  or  our  offers 
of  money,  in  which  we  advanced  pretty  far,  avail  to 
shake  him. 


72  THE   MASTER  OF   BALLANTRAE. 

"I  see  you  think  ill  of  us,"  says  Ballantrae,  "but  I 
will  show  you  how  well  we  think  of  you  by  telling  you 
the  truth.  We  are  Jacobite  fugitives,  and  there  is  a 
price  upon  our  heads." 

At  this,  the  Albanian  was  plainly  moved  a  little.  He 
asked  us  many  questions  as  to  the  Scotch  war,  which 
Ballantrae  very  patiently  answered.  And  then,  with  a 
wink,  in  a  vulgar  manner,  "  I  guess  you  and  your  Prince 
Charlie  got  more  than  you  cared  about,"  said  he. 

*'Bedad,  and  that  we  did,"  said  I.  "And  my  dear 
man,  I  wish  you  would  set  a  new  example  and  give  us 
just  that  much." 

This  I  said  in  the  Irish  way,  about  which  there  is 
allowed  to  be  something  very  engaging.  It's  a  remark- 
able thing,  and  a  testimony  to  the  love  with  which  our 
nation  is  regarded,  that  this  address  scarce  ever  fails 
in  a  handsome  fellow.  I  cannot  tell  how  often  I  have 
seen  a  private  soldier  escape  the  horse,  or  a  beggar 
wheedle  out  a  good  alms,  by  a  touch  of  the  brogue. 
And  indeed,  as  soon  as  the  Albanian  had  laughed  at  me 
I  was  pretty  much  at  rest.  Even  then,  however,  he 
made  many  conditions  and  (for  one  thing)  took  away 
our  arms,  before  he  suffered  us  aboard  ;  which  was  the 
signal  to  cast  off  ;'so  that  in  a  moment  after,  we  were 
gliding  down  the  bay  with  a  good  breeze  and  blessing 
the  name  of  God  lor  our  deliverance.  Almost  in  the 
mouth  of  the  estuary,  we  passed  the  cruiser,  and  a  little 
after,  the  poor  Sarah  with  her  prize  crew ;  and  these 


THE  master's  wanderings.  73 

were  both  sights  to  make  us  tremble.  The  Bermudan 
seemed  a  very  safe  place  to  be  in,  and  our  bold  stroke  to 
have  been  fortunately  played,  when  we  were  thus  re- 
minded of  the  case  of  our  companions.  For  all  that,  we 
had  only  exchanged  traj^s.  Jumped  out  of  the  frying  pan 
into  the  fire,  run  from  the  yard  arm  to  the  block,  and 
escaped  the  open  hostility  of  the  man  of  war  to  lie  at  the 
mercy  of  the  doubtful  faith  of  our  Albanian  merchant. 

From  many  circumstances,  it  chanced  we  were  safer 
than  we  could  have  dared  to  hope.  The  town  of 
Albany  was  at  that  time  much  concerned  in  contra- 
band trade  across  the  desert  with  the  Indians  and  the 
French.  This,  as  it  was  highly  illegal,  relaxed  their 
loyalty,  and  as  it  brought  them  in  relation  with  the  po- 
litest people  on  the  earth,  divided  even  their  sympathies. 
In  short  they  were  like  all  the  smugglers  in  the  world, 
spies  and  agents  ready-made  for  either  party.  Our  Al- 
banian besides  was  a  very  honest  man  indeed,  and  very 
greedy  ;  and  to  crown  our  luck,  he  conceived  a  great  de- 
light in  our  society.  Before  we  had  reached  the  town 
of  New  York,  we  had  come  to  a  full  agreement  :  that  he 
should  carry  us  as  far  as  Albany  upon  his  ship,  and  thence 
put  us  on  a  way  to  j^ass  the  boundaries  and  join  the 
French.  For  all  this  we  were  to  pay  at  a  high  rate  ;  but 
beggars  cannot  be  choosers,  nor  outlaws  bargainers. 

We  sailed,  then,  up  the  Hudson  Eiver  which,  I  pro- 
test, is  a  very  fine  stream,  and  put  up  at  the  King^s  Arms 
in  Albany.     The  town  was  full  of  the  militia  of  the 


74  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLAXTRAE. 

province,  breathing  slaughter  against  the  French.  Gov- 
ernor  Clinton  was  there  himself,  a  very  busy  man,  and 
by  what  I  could  learn,  very  near  distracted  by  the 
factiousness  of  his  Assembly.  The  Indians  on  both  sides 
were  on  the  war  path  ;  we  saw  parties  of  them  bring- 
ing in  prisoners  and  (what  was  much  worse)  scalps,  both 
male  and  female,  for  which  they  were  paid  at  a  fixed 
rate ;  and  I  assure  you  the  sight  was  not  encouraging. 
Altogether  we  could  scarce  have  come  at  a  period  more 
unsuitable  for  our  designs  ;  our  position  in  the  chief 
inn  was  dreadfully  conspicuous  :  our  Albanian  fubbed 
us  oif  with  a  thousand  delays  and  seemed  upon  the 
point  of  a  retreat  from  his  engagements  ;  nothing  but 
peril  appeared  to  environ  the  poor  fugitives ;  and  for 
some  time,  we  drowned  our  concern  in  a  very  irregular 
course  of  living. 

This  too  proved  to  be  fortunate  ;  and  it's  one  of  the  re- 
marks that  fall  to  be  made  upon  our  escape,  how  provi- 
dentially our  steps  were  conducted  to  the  very  end. 
What  a  humiliation  to  the  dignity  of  man  !  My  philos- 
ophy, the  extraordinary  genius  of  Ballantrae,  our  valour, 
in  which  I  grant  that  we  were  equal — all  these  might 
have  proved  insufficient  without  the  Divine  Blessing  on 
our  efforts.  And  how  true  it  is,  as  the  Church  tells  us, 
that  the  Truths  of  Eeligion  are  after  all  quite  applicable 
even  to  daily  affairs  !  At  least  it  was  in  the  course  of 
our  revelry  that  we  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  spirited 
youth,  by  the  name  of  Chew.     He  was  one  of  the  most 


THE  master's  wanderings.  75 

daring  of  the  Indian  traders,  very  well  acquainted  with 
the  secret  paths  of  the  wilderness,  needy,  dissolute,  and 
by  a  last  good  fortune,  in  some  disgrace  with  his  family. 
Him  we  persuaded  to  come  to  our  relief ;  he  privately 
provided  what  was  needful  for  our  flight ;  and  one  day 
we  slipped  out  of  Albany,  without  a  word  to  our  former 
friend,  and  embarked,  a  little  above,  in  a  canoe. 

To  the  toils  and  perils  of  this  journey,  it  would  re- 
quire a  pen  more  elegant  than  mine  to  do  full  justice. 
The  reader  must  conceive  for  himself  the  dreadful  wil- 
derness which  we  had  now  to  thread  ;  its  thickets, 
swamps,  precipitous  rocks,  impetuous  rivers,  and  amaz- 
ing waterfalls.  Among  these  barbarous  scenes,  we  must 
toil  all  day,  qow  paddling,  now  carrying  our  canoe 
upon  our  shoulders  ;  and  at  night  we  slept  about  a  fire, 
surrounded  by  the  howling  of  wolves  and  other  savage 
animals.  It  was  our  design  to  mount  the  headwaters 
of  the  Hudson,  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Crown  Point ; 
where  bhe  French  had  a  strong  place  in  the  woods,  upon 
Lake  Champlain.  But  to  have  done  this  directly  were 
too  perilous  ;  and  it  was  accordingly  gone  upon  by  such 
a  labyrinth  of  rivers,  lakes  and  portages  as  makes  my 
head  giddy  to  remember.  These  paths  were  in  ordinary 
times  entirely  desert ;  but  the  country  was  now  up, 
the  tribes  on  the  war  path,  the  woods  full  of  Indian 
scouts.  Again  and  again  we  came  upon  these  parties, 
when  we  least  expected  them  ;  and  one  day,  in  particu- 
lar, I  shall  never  forget  ;  how,  as  dawn  was  coming  in, 


76  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

we  were  suddenly  surrounded  by  five  or  six  of  these 
painted  devils,  uttering  a  very  dreary  sort  of  cry  and 
brandishing  their  hatchets.  It  passed  off  harmlessly  in- 
deed, as  did  the  rest  of  our  encounters  ;  for  Chew  was 
well  known  and  highly  valued  among  the  different  tribes. 
Indeed  he  was  a  very  gallant,  respectable  young  man. 
But  even  with  the  advantage  of  his  companionship,  you 
must  not  think  these  meetings  were  without  sensible 
peril.  To  prove  friendship  on  our  part,  it  was  needful 
to  draw  ujjon  our  stock  of  rum — indeed,  under  whatever 
disguise,  that  is  the  true  business  of  the  Indian  trader, 
to  keep  a  travelling  public  house  in  the  forest ;  and 
when  once  the  braves  had  got  their  bottle  of  scaura  (as 
they  call  this  beastly  liquor)  it  behooved  us  to  set  forth 
and  paddle  for  our  scalps.  Once  they  were  a  little 
drunk,  good  bye  to  any  sense  or  decency ;  they  had  but 
the  one  thought,  to  get  more  scaura  ;  they  might  easily 
take  it  in  their  heads  to  give  us  chase  ;  and  had  we 
been  overtaken,  I  had  never  written  these  memoirs. 

We  were  come  to  the  most  critical  portion  of  our  course, 
where  we  might  equally  expect  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 
French  or  English,  when  a  terrible  calamity  befell  us. 
Chew  was  taken  suddenly  sick  with  symptoms  like  those 
of  poison,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours  expired  in  the 
bottom  of  the  canoe.  We  thus  lost  at  once  our  guide, 
our  interpreter,  our  boatman  and  our  passporte,  for  he 
was  all  these  in  one  ;  and  found  ourselves  reduced,  at  a 
blow,  to  the  most  desperate  and  irremediable  distress 


THE  master's  wanderings.  77 

Chew,  wlio  took  a  great  pride  in  his  knowledge,  had  in- 
deed often  lectured  us  on  the  geography;  and  Ballantrae, 
I  believe,  would  listen.  But  for  my  part  I  have  always 
found  such  information  highly  tedious  ;  and  beyond  the 
fact  that  we  were  now  in  the  country  of  the  Adirondack 
Indians,  and  not  so  distant  from  our  destination,  could 
we  but  have  found  the  way,  I  was  entirely  ignorant. 
The  wisdom  of  my  course  was  soon  the  more  apparent ; 
for  with  all  his  pains,  Ballantrae  was  no  further  advanced 
than  myself.  He  knew  we  must  continue  to  go  up  one 
stream  ;  then,  by  way  of  a  portage,  down  another ;  and 
then  up  a  third.  But  you  are  to  consider,  in  a  moun- 
tain country,  how  many  streams  come  rolling  in  from 
every  hand.  And  how  is  a  gentleman,  who  is  a  perfect 
stranger  in  that  part  of  the  world,  to  tell  any  one  of 
them  from  any  other  ?  Nor  was  this  our  only  trouble. 
"We  were  great  novices,  besides,  in  handling  a  canoe  ;  the 
portages  were  almost  beyond  our  strength,  so  that  I  have 
seen  us  sit  down  in  despair  for  half  an  hour  at  a  time 
without  one  word ;  and  the  appearance  of  a  single  In- 
dian, since  we  had  now  no  means  of  speaking  to  them, 
would  have  been  in  all  probability  the  means  of  our  de- 
struction. There  is  altogether  some  excuse  if  Ballan- 
trae showed  something  of  a  glooming  disposition ;  his 
habit  of  imputing  blame  to  others,  quite  as  capable  as 
himself,  was  less  tolerable,  and  his  language  it  was  not 
always  easy  to  accept.  Indeed  he  had  contracted  on 
board  the  pirate  ship  a  manner  of  address  which  was  in 


78  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

a  high  degree  unusual  between  gentlemen ;  and  now, 
when  you  might  say  he  was  in  ii  fever,  it  increased  upon 
him  hugely. 

The  third  day  of  these  wanderings,  as  we  were  carry- 
ing the  canoe  upon  a  rocky  portage,  she  fell  and  was  en- 
tirely bilged.  The  portage  was  between  two  lakes,  both 
pretty  extensive  ;  the  track,  such  as  it  was,  opened  at 
both  ends  upon  the  water,  and  on  both  hands  was  en- 
closed by  the  unbroken  woods  ;  and  the  sides  of  the  lakes 
were  quite  impassable  with  bog  :  so  that  we  beheld  our- 
selves not  only  condemned  to  go  without  our  boat  and 
the  greater  part  of  our  provisions,  but  to  plunge  at  once 
into  impenetrable  thickets  and  to  desert  what  little  guid- 
ance we  still  had, — the  course  of  the  river.  Each  stuck 
his  pistols  in  his  belt,  shouldered  an  axe,  made  a  pack  of 
his  treasure  and  as  much  food  as  he  could  stagger  under  ; 
and  deserting  the  rest  of  our  possessions,  even  to  our 
swords,  which  would  have  much  embarrassed  us  among 
the  woods,  we  set  forth  on  this  deplorable  adventure. 
The  labours  of  Hercules,  so  finely  described  by  Homer, 
were  a  trifle  to  what  we  now  underwent.  Some  parts  of 
the  forest  were  perfectly  dense  down  to  the  ground,  so 
that  we  must  cut  our  way  like  mites  in  a  cheese.  In  some 
the  bottom  was  full  of  deep  swamp,  and  the  whole  wood 
entirely  rotten.  I  have  leaped  on  a  great  fallen  log  and 
sunk  to  the  knees  in  touchwood  ;  I  have  sought  to  stay 
myself,  in  falling,  against  what  looked  to  be  a  solid  trunk, 
and  the  whole  thing  has  whiffed  away  at  my  touch  like 


THK   TUACK    ON    nOTH    HANKS    WAS    ENCl.OSKl)    BV     INK   INHItOKKN    WOODS. 


THE  master's  wanderings.  79 

a  sheet  of  paper.  Stumbling,  falling,  bogging  to  the 
knees,  hewing  our  way,  our  eyes  almost  put  out  with  twigs 
and  branches,  our  clothes  plucked  from  oar  bodies,  we 
laboured  allday,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  we  made  two  miles. 
What  was  worse,  as  we  could  rarely  get  a  view  of  the 
country  and  were  perpetually  justled  from  our  path  by 
obstacles,  it  was  impossible  even  to  have  a  guess  in  what 
direction  we  were  moving. 

A  little  before  sundown,  in  an  open  place  with  a 
stream  and  set  about  with  barbarous  mountains,  Bal- 
lantrue  threw  down  his  pack.  "  I  will  go  no  further," 
said  he,  and  bade  me  light  the  fire,  damning  my  blood 
in  terms  not  proper  for  a  chairman. 

I  told  him  to  try  to  forget  he  had  ever  been  a  pirate, 
and  to  remember  he  had  been  a  gentleman. 

"Are  you  mad  ?  "  he  cried.  ''  Don't  cross  me  here  !  " 
And  then,  shaking  his  fist  at  the  hills,  "  To  think," 
cries  he,  "  that  I  must  leave  my  bones  in  this  miserable 
wilderness  !  Would  God  I  had  died  upon  the  scaffold 
like  a  gentleman  ! "  This  he  said  ranting  like  an  actor  ; 
and  then  sat  biting  his  fingers  and  staring  on  the 
ground,  a  most  unchristian  object. 

I  took  a  certain  horror  of  the  man,  for  I  thought  a 
soldier  and  a  gentleman  should  confront  his  end  with 
more  philosophy.  I  made  him  no  reply,  therefore,  in 
words  ;  and  presently  the  evening  fell  so  chill  that  I 
was  glad,  for  my  own  sake,  to  kindle  a  fire.  And  yet 
God  knows,  in  such  an  open  spot,  and  the  country  alive 


80  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

with  savages,  the  act  was  little  short  of  lunacy.  Bal- 
lantrae  seemed  never  to  observe  me  ;  but  at  last,  as  I 
was  about  parching  a  little  corn,  he  looked  up. 

*'  Have  you  ever  a  brother  ?  "  said  he. 

'*  By  the  blessing  of  heaven,"  said  I,  "  not  less  than 
five." 

"I  have  the  one,"  said  he,  with  a  strange  voice  ;  and 
then  presently,  ^'He  shall  pay  me  for  all  this,"  he 
added.  And  when  I  asked  him  what  was  his  brother's 
part  in  our  distress,  ''  What  !  "  he  cried,  "  he  sits  in  my 
place,  he  bears  my  name,  he  courts  my  wife ;  and  I  am 
here  alone  with  a  damned  Irishman  in  this  tooth-chat- 
tering desert  !  0,  I  have  been  a  common  gull  ! "  he 
cried. 

The  explosion  was  in  all  ways  so  foreign  to  my 
friend's  nature,  that  I  was  daunted  out  of  all  my  just 
susceptibility.  Sure,  an  offensive  expression,  however 
vivacious,  appears  a  wonderfully  small  affair  in  circum- 
stances so  extreme  !  But  here  there  is  a  strange  thing 
to  be  noted.  He  had  only  once  before  referred  to  the 
lady  with  whom  he  was  contracted.  That  was  when  we 
came  in  view  of  the  town  of  New  York,  when  he  had  told 
me,  if  all  had  their  rights,  he  was  now  in  sight  of  his 
own  property,  for  Miss  Graeme  enjoyed  a  large  estate  in 
the  province.  And  this  was  certainly  a  natural  occa- 
sion ;  but  now  here  she  was  named  a  second  time ;  and 
what  is  surely  fit  to  be  observed,  in  this  very  month, 
which  was  November,  '47,  and  /  believe  upon  that  very 


THE   master's   wanderings.  81 

day  as  we  sat  among  these  barbarous  mountains,  his 
brother  and  Miss  Graeme  were  married.  I  am  the  least 
superstitious  of  men  ;  but  the  hand  of  Providence  is 
here  displayed  too  openly  not  to  be  remarked.* 

The  nest  day,  and  the  next,  were  passed  in  similar 
labours  ;  Ballantrae  often  deciding  on  our  course  by  the 
spinning  of  a  coin  ;  and  once,  when  I  expostulated  on 
this  childishness,  he  had  an  odd  remark  that  I  have 
never  forgotten.  ''I  know  no  better  way,"  said  he, 
"  to  express  my  scorn  of  human  reason."  I  think  it 
was  the  third  day,  that  we  found  the  body  of  a  Chris- 
tian, scalped  and  most  abominably  mangled,  and  lying 
in  a  pudder  of  his  blood  ;  the  birds  of  the  desert  scream- 
ing over  him,  as  thick  as  flies.  I  cannot  describe  how 
dreadfully  this  sight  affected  us ;  but  it  robbed  me  of 
all  strength  and  all  hope  for  this  world.  The  same  day, 
and  only  a  little  after,  we  were  scrambling  over  a  part 
of  the  forest  that  had  been  burned,  when  Ballantrae, 
who  was  a  little  ahead,  ducked  suddenly  behind  a  fallen 
trunk.  I  joined  him  in  this  shelter,  whence  we  could 
look  abroad  without  being  seen  ourselves  ;  and  in  the 
bottom  of  the  next  vale,  beheld  a  large  war  party  of  the 
savages  going  by  across  our  line.  There  might  be 
the  value  of  a  weak  battalion  present ;  all  naked  to  the 
waist,  blacked  with  grease  and  suit,  and  painted  with 

*  Note  by  Mr.  Mackellar :  A  complete  blunder :  there  was  at 
tliis  date  no  word  of  the  marriage  :  see  above  in  my  own  narra- 
tion. 

6 


82  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

white  lead  and  vermillion,  according  to  their  beastly 
habits.  They  went  one  behind  another  like  a  string  of 
geese,  and  at  a  qiiicls.ish  trot ;  so  that  they  took  but  a 
little  while  to  rattle  by  and  disappear  again  among  the 
woods.  Yet  I  suppose  we  endured  a  greater  agony  of 
hesitation  and  suspense  in  these  few  minutes  than  goes 
usually  to  a  man's  whole  life.  Whether  they  were 
French  or  English  Indians,  whether  they  desired  scalps 
or  prisoners,  whether  we  should  declare  ourselves  upon 
the  chance  or  lie  quiet  and  continue  the  heart-breaking 
business  of  our  journey :  sure,  I  think,  these  were  ques- 
tions to  have  puzzled  the  brains  of  Aristotle  himself. 
Ballantrae  turned  to  me  with  a  face  all  wrinkled  up  and 
his  teeth  showing  in  his  mouth,  like  what  I  have  read 
of  people  starving ;  he  said  no  word,  but  his  whole  ap- 
pearance was  a  kind  of  dreadful  question  : 

"  They  may  be  of  the  English  side,"  I  whispered  ; 
"and  think  !  the  best  we  could  then  hope,  is  to  begin 
this  over  again." 

*'  I  know,  I  know,"  he  said.  "  Yet  it  must  come  to 
a  plunge  at  last."  And  he  suddenly  plucked  out  his 
coin,  shook  it  in  his  closed  hands,  looked  at  it,  and  then 
lay  down  with  his  face  in  the  dust. 

Addition  by  Mr.  MacTcellar.  I  drop  the  Chevalier's 
narration  at  this  point  because  the  coiijile  quarrelled 
and  separated  the  same  day  ;  and  the  Chevalier's  account 
of  the  quarrel  seems  to  me  (I  must  confess)  quite  incom- 


THE  master's  wanderings.  83 

patible  with  the  nature  of  either  of  the  men.  Hence- 
forth, they  wandered  alone,  undergoing  extraordinary 
sufferings ;  until  first  one  and  then  the  other  was  picked 
up  by  a  party  from  Fort  St.  Frederick.  Only  two 
things  are  to  be  noted.  And  first  (as  most  important 
for  my  purpose)  that  the  Master,  in  the  course  of  his 
miseries  buried  his  treasure,  at  a  point  never  since  dis- 
covered, but  of  which  he  took  a  drawing  in  his  own 
blood  on  the  lining  of  his  hat.  And  second,  that  on  his 
coming  thus  penniless  to  the  Fort,  he  was  welcomed  like 
a  brother  by  the  Chevalier,  who  thence  paid  his  way  to 
France.  The  simplicity  of  Mr.  Burke's  character  leads 
him  at  this  point  to  praise  the  Master  exceedingly ;  to 
an  eye  more  worldly  wise,  it  would  seem  it  was  the 
Chevalier  alone  that  was  to  be  commended.  I  have  the 
more  pleasure  in  pointing  to  this  really  very  noble  trait 
of  my  esteemed  correspondent,  as  I  fear  I  may  have 
wounded  him  immediately  before.  I  have  refrained 
from  comments  on  any  of  his  extraordinary  and  (in  my 
eyes)  immoral  opinions,  for  I  know  him  to  be  jealons  of 
respect.  But  his  version  of  the  quarrel  is  really  more 
than  I  can  reproduce  ;  for  I  knew  the  Master  myself, 
and  a  man  more  insusceptible  of  fear  is  not  conceivable. 
I  regret  this  oversight  of  the  Chevalier's,  and  all  the 
more  because  the  tenor  of  his  narrative  (set  aside  a  few 
flourishes)  strikes  me  as  highly  ingenuous. 


PEESECUTIONS  ENDURED   BY  MR.  HENRY. 

You  can  guess  on  what  part  of  his  adventures  the 
Colonel  principally  dwelled.  Indeed,  if  we  had  heard 
it  all,  it  is  to  be  thought  the  current  of  this  business  had 
been  wholly  altered  ;  but  the  pirate  ship  was  very  gently 
touched  upon.  Nor  did  I  hear  the  Colonel  to  an  end 
even  of  that  which  he  was  willing  to  disclose ;  for  Mr. 
Henry,  having  for  some  while  been  plunged  in  a  brown 
study,  rose  at  last  from  his  seat  and  (reminding  the 
Colonel  there  were  matters  that  he  must  attend  to)  bade 
me  follow  him  immediately  to  the  office. 

Once  there,  he  sought  no  longer  to  dissemble  his 
concern,  walking  to  and  fro  in  the  room  with  a  con- 
torted face,  and  passing  his  hand  repeatedly  upon  his 
brow. 

**  We  have  some  business,"  he  began  at  last ;  and  there 
broke  off,  declared  we  must  have  wine,  and  sent  for  a 
magnum  of  the  best.  This  was  extremely  foreign  to  his 
habitudes  ;  and  what  was  still  more  so,  when  the  wine 
had  come,  he  gulped  down  one  glass  upon  another  like 
a  man  careless  of  appearances.  But  the  drink  steadied 
him. 


PERSECUTIONS.  85 

*^  You  will  scarce  be  surprised,  Mackellar,"  says  he, 
"  when  I  tell  you  that  my  brother  (whose  safety  we  are 
all  rejoiced  to  learn)  stands  in  some  need  of  money." 

I  told  him  I  had  misdoubted  as  much  ;  but  the  time 
was  not  very  fortunate  as  the  stock  was  low. 

"  JN"ot  mine,"  said  he.  "  There  is  the  money  for  the 
mortgage." 

I  reminded  him  it  was  Mrs.  Henry's. 

"  I  will  be  answerable  to  my  wife,"  he  cried  violently. 

"And  then,"  said  I,  "  there  is  the  mortgage." 

"I  know,"  said  he,  ''it  is  on  that  I  would  consult 
you." 

I  showed  him  how  unfortunate  a  time  it  was  to  divert 
this  money  from  its  destination ;  and  how  by  so  doing 
we  must  lose  the  profit  of  our  past  economies,  and 
plunge  back  the  estate  into  the  mire.  I  even  took  the 
liberty  to  plead  with  him  ;  and  when  he  still  opposed 
me  with  a  shake  of  the  head  and  a  bitter  dogged  smile, 
my  zeal  quite  carried  me  beyond  my  place.  "  This  is 
midsummer  madness,"  cried  I;  "and  I  for  one  will  be 
no  party  to  it," 

"  You  speak  as  though  I  did  it  for  my  pleasure,"  says 
he.  "  But  I  have  a  child  now  ;  and  besides  I  love  or- 
der ;  and  to  say  the  honest  truth,  Mackellar,  I  had  be- 
gun to  take  a  pride  in  the  estates."  He  gloomed  for  a 
moment.  "  But  what  would  you  have  ?"  he  went  on. 
"  Nothing  is  mine,  nothing.  This  day's  news  has 
knocked  the  bottom  out  of  my  life.     I  have  only  the 


86  THE   MASTER  OF   BALLANTKAE. 

name  and  the  shadow  of  things ;  only  the  shadow ; 
there  is  no  substance  in  my  rights." 

"  They  will  prove  substantial  enough  before  a  court," 
said  I. 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  burning  eye,  and  seemed  to 
repress  the  word  upon  his  lips  ;  and  I  repented  what  I 
had  said,  for  I  saw  that  while  he  spoke  of  the  estate 
he  had  still  a  side-thought  to  his  marriage.  And  then, 
of  a  sudden,  he  twitched  the  letter  from  his  pocket, 
where  it  lay  all  crumpled,  smoothed  it  violently  on  the 
table,  and  read  tliese  words  to  me  with  a  trembling 
tongue.  "  '  My  dear  Jacob  ' — This  is  how  he  begins  !  " 
cries  he — "  '  My  dear  Jacob,  I  once  called  you  so,  you 
may  remember  ;  and  you  have  now  done  the  businass, 
and  flung  my  heels  as  high  as  Criffel.'  What  do  you 
think  of  that,  Mackellar,"  says  he,  "from  an  only 
brother  ?  I  declare  to  God  I  liked  him  very  well ;  I 
was  always  staunch  to  him  ;  and  this  is  how  he  writes  ! 
But  I  will  not  sit  down  under  the  imputation — "  (walk- 
ing to  and  fro) — "I  am  as  good  as  he,  I  am  a  better 
man  than  he,  I  call  on  God  to  prove  it !  I  cannot  give 
him  all  the  monstroxis  sum  he  asks  ;  he  knows  the  estate 
to  be  incompetent ;  but  I  will  give  him  what  I  have, 
and  it  is  more  than  he  expects,  I  have  borne  all  this 
too  long.  See  what  he  writes  further  on  ;  read  it  for 
yourself:  'I  know  you  are  a  niggardly  dog.'  A  nig- 
gardly dog  !  I,  niggardly  ?  Is  that  true,  Mackellar  ? 
You  think  it  is  ? "     I  really  thought  he  would  have 


PEESECUTIONS.  87 

Btrnck  mc  at  that.  '^0,  you  all  think  so!  Well,  you 
shall  see,  and  he  shall  see,  and  God  shall  see.  If  I  ruin 
the  estate  and  go  barefoot,  I  shall  stuff  this  bloodsucker. 
Let  him  ask  all — all,  and  he  shall  have  it !  It  i-s  all  his 
by  rights.  Ah  ! "'  he  cried,  "  and  I  foresaw  all  this  and 
worse,  when  he  would  not  let  me  go."  He  poured  out 
another  glass  of  wine  and  was  about  to  carry  it  to  his 
lips,  when  I  made  so  bold  as  lay  a  finger  on  his  arm. 
He  stopped  a  moment.  "  You  are  right,"  said  he,  and 
flung  glass  and  all  in  the  fire-place.  ''Come,  let  us 
count  the  money." 

I  durst  no  longer  oppose  him  ;  indeed  I  was  very 
much  affected  by  the  sight  of  so  mucli  disorder  in  a 
man  usually  so  controlled  ;  and  we  sat  down  together, 
counted  the  money,  and  made  it  up  in  packets  for  the 
greater  ease  of  Colonel  Burke,  who  was  to  be  the  bearer. 
This  done,  Mr.  Henry  returned  to  the  hall,  where  he 
and  my  old  lord  sat  all  night  through  with  their 
guest. 

A  little  before  dawn  I  was  called  and  set  out  with  the 
Colonel.  He  would  scarce  have  liked  a  les-s  responsible 
convoy,  for  he  was  a  man  who  valued  himself  ;  nor 
could  we  afford  him  one  more  dignified,  for  Mr.  Henry 
must  not  appear  with  the  freetraders.  It  was  a  very 
bitter  morning  of  wind,  and  as  we  went  down  through 
the  long  shrubbery,  the  Colonel  held  himself  mufiied  in 
his  cloak. 

*'Sir,"  said  I,   "this  is  a  great  sum  of  money  that 


88  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

your  friend  requires.  I  must  suppose  his  necessities  to 
be  very  great." 

*MVe  must  suppose  so/'  says  he,  I  thought  drily, 
but  perhaps  it  was  the  cloak  about  his  mouth. 

**I  am  only  a  servant  of  the  family,"  said  I.  *' You 
may  deal  openly  with  me.  I  think  we  are  likely  to  get 
little  good  by  him  ?  " 

**  My  dear  man,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  Ballantrae  is  a 
gentleman  of  the  most  eminent  natural  abilities,  and  a 
man  that  I  admire  and  that  I  revere,  to  the  very  ground 
he  treads  on."  And  then  he  seemed  to  me  to  pause  like 
one  in  a  difficulty. 

*'But  for  all  that,"  said  I,  "  we  are  likely  t?J  get  little 
good  by  him  ?" 

"  Sure,  and  you  can  have  it  your  own  way,  my  dear 
man,"  says  the  Colonel. 

By  this  time  we  had  come  to  the  side  of  tlie  creek, 
where  the  boat  awaited  him.  "  Well,"  said  he,  "I  am 
sure  I  am  very  much  your  debtor  for  all  your  civility, 
Mr.  "Whatever-your-name-is  ;  and  just  as  a  last  word,  and 
since  you  show  so  much  intelligent  interest,  I  will  men- 
tion a  small  circumstance  that  may  be  of  use  to  the  family. 
For  I  believe  my  friend  omitted  to  mention  that  he  has 
the  largest  pension  on  the  Scots  Fund  of  any  refugee 
in  Paris  ;  and  it's  the  more  disgraceful,  sir,"  cries  the 
Colonel,  warming,  "because  there's  not  one  dirty  penny 
for  myself." 

He  cocked  his  hat  at  me,  as  if  I  had  been  to  blame  fov 


PERSECUTIONS.  89 

this  partiality  ;  then  changed  again  into  his  usual  swag- 
gering civility,  shook  me  by  the  hand,  and  set  off  down 
to  the  boat,  with  the  money  under  his  arms,  and  whist- 
ling as  he  went  the  pathetic  air  of  Shule  Aroo/i.  It 
was  the  first  time  I  had  heard  that  tune  ;  I  was  to  hear 
it  again,  words  and  all,  as  you  shall  learn  ;  but  1 
remember  how  that  little  stave  of  it  ran  in  my  head, 
after  the  freetraders  had  bade  him  "  Wheesht,  in  the 
deil's  name,"  and  the  grating  of  the  oars  had  taken 
its  place,  and  I  stood  and  watched  the  dawn  creeping 
on  the  sea,  and  the  boat  drawing  away,  and  the  lugger 
lying  Avith  her  foresail  backed  awaiting  it. 

The  gap  made  in  our  money  was  a  sore  embarrass- 
ment ;  and  among  other  consequences,  it  had  this  :  that 
I  must  ride  to  Edinburgh,  and  there  raise  a  new  loan 
on  very  questionable  terms  to  keep  the  old  afloat ;  and 
was  thus,  for  close  upon  three  weeks,  absent  from  the 
house  of  Durrisdeer. 

What  passed  in  the  interval,  I  had  none  to  tell  me  ; 
but  I  found  Mrs.  Henry,  upon  my  return,  much  changed 
in  her  demeanour  ;  the  old  talks  with  my  lord  for  the 
most  part  pretermitted  ;  a  certain  deprecation  visible 
towards  her  husband,  to  whom  I  thought  she  addressed 
herself  more  often  ;  and  for  one  thing,  she  was  now 
greatly  wrapped  up  in  Miss  Katharine.  You  would 
think  the  change  was  agreeable  to  Mr.  Henry  !  no  such 
matter !     To  the  contrary,  every  circumstance  of  alter- 


90  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

ation  was  a  stab  to  him  ;  he  read  in  each  the  avowal  of  her 
truant  fancies  : — tliat  constancy  to  the  Master  of  which 
she  was  proud  while  she  supposed  him  dead,  she  had  to 
blush  for  now  she  knew  he  was  alive  :  and  these  blushes 
were  the  hated  spring  of  her  new  conduct.  I  am  to 
conceal  no  truth  ;  and  I  will  here  say  plainly,  I  think 
this  was  the  period  in  which  Mr.  Henry  showed  the 
worst.  He  contained  himself,  indeed,  in  public  ;  but 
there  was  a  deep-seated  irritation  visible  underneath. 
With  me,  from  whom  he  had  less  concealment,  he  was 
often  grossly  unjust;  and  even  for  his  wife,  he  would 
sometimes  have  a  sharp  retort :  perhaps  when  she  had 
ruffled  him  with  some  unwonted  kindness;  perhaps  upon 
no  tangible  occasion,  the  mere  habitual  tenor  of  the 
man's  annoyance  bursting  spontaneously  forth.  When 
he  would  thus  forget  himself  (a  thing  so  strangely  out 
of  keeping  with  the  terms  of  their  relation),  there  went 
a  shock  through  the  whole  company  ;  and  the  pair  would 
look  upon  each  other  in  a  kind  of  pained  amazement. 

All  the  time  too,  while  he  was  injuring  himself  by 
this  defect  of  temper,  he  was  hurting  his  position  by  a 
silence,  of  which  I  scarce  know  whether  to  say  it  was  the 
child  of  generosity  or  pride.  The  freetraders  came  again 
and  again,  bringing  messengers  from  the  Master,  and 
none  departed  empty  handed.  I  never  durst  reason 
with  Mr.  Henry  ;  he  gave  what  was  asked  of  him  in  a 
kind  of  noble  rage.  Perhaps  because  he  knew  he  was  by 
nature  inclining  to  the  parsimonious,  he  took  a  back- 


PERSECUTIONS.  91 

foremost  pleasure  in  the  recklessness  with  which  he  sup- 
plied his  brother's  exigence.  Perhaps  the  falsity  of  the 
position  would  have  spurred  a  humbler  man  into  the 
same  excesses.  But  the  estate  (if  I  may  say  so)  gioaned 
under  it ;  our  daily  expenses  were  shorn  lower  and  lower ; 
the  stables  were  emptied,  all  but  four  roadsters ;  ser- 
vants were  discharged,  which  raised  a  dreadful  murmur- 
ing in  the  country  and  heated  up  the  old  disfavour  upon 
Mr.  Henry  ;  and  at  last  the  yearly  visit  to  Edinburgh 
must  be  discontinued. 

This  was  in  1756.  You  are  to  suppose  that  for  seven 
years  this  bloodsucker  had  been  drawing  the  life's  blood 
from  Durrisdeer ;  and  that  all  this  time,  my  patron  had 
held  his  peace.  It  was  an  effect  of  devilish  malice  in 
the  Master,  that  he  addressed  Mr.  Henry  alone  upon  the 
matter  of  his  demands ;  and  there  was  never  a  word  to 
my  lord.  The  family  had  looked  on  wondering  at  our 
economies.  They  had  lamented,  I  have  no  doubt,  that  my 
patron  had  become  so  great  a  miser ;  a  fault  always  des- 
picable, but  in  the  young  abhorrent ;  and  Mr.  Henry 
was  not  yet  thirty  years  of  age.  Still  he  had  managed  the 
business  of  Durrisdeer  almost  from  a  boy  ;  and  they  bore 
with  these  changes  in  a  silence  as  proud  and  bitter  as 
his  own,  until  the  coping  stone  of  the  Edinburgh  visit. 

At  this  time,  I  believe  my  patron  and  his  wife  were 
rarely  together  save  at  meals.  Immediately  on  the  back  of 
Colonel  Burke's  announcement,  Mrs.  Henry  made  palpa- 
ble advances  ;  you  might  say  she  had  laid  a  sort  of  timid 


92  THE   MASTER  OF   BALLANTRAE. 

court  to  her  liusband,  different  indeed  from  her  former 
munuer  of  unconcern  and  distiinco.  I  never  had  the 
heart  to  blame  Mr.  Henry  because  he  recoiled  from 
these  advances ;  nor  yet  to  censure  the  wife,  when  she 
was  cut  to  the  quick  by  their  rejection.  But  the  result 
was  an  entire  estrangement,  so  tliat  (as  I  say)  they  rarely 
spoke  except  at  meals.  Even  the  matter  of  the  Edin- 
burgh visit  was  first  broached  at  table  ;  and  it  chanced 
that  Mrs.  Henry  was  that  day  ailing  and  querulous. 
She  had  no  sooner  understood  her  husband's  meaning, 
than  the  red  flew  in  her  face. 

"At  last,"  she  cried,  "this  is  too  much!  Heaven 
knows  what  pleasure  I  have  in  my  life,  that  I  should  be 
denied  my  only  consolation.  These  shameful  proclivi- 
ties must  be  trod  down  ;  we  are  already  a  mark  and  an 
eyesore  in  the  neighbourhood  ;  I  will  not  endure  this 
fresh  insanity." 

"I  cannot  afford  it,"  says  Mr.  Henry. 

"Afford?"  she  cried,  "For  shame!  But  I  have 
money  of  my  own. " 

*'That  is  all  mine,  madam,  by  marriage,"  he  snarled, 
and  instantly  left  the  room. 

My  old  lord  threw  up  his  hands  to  heaven,  and  he  and 
his  daughter,  withdrawing  to  the  chimney,  gave  me  a 
broad  hint  to  be  gone.  I  found  Mr.  Henry  in  his  usual 
retreat,  the  steward's  room,  perched  on  the  end  of  the 
table  and  plunging  his  penknife  in  it,  with  a  very  ugly 
countenance. 


PERSECUTIONS.  93 

*'Mr.  IlGiiry,"  said  I,  "you  do  yourself  too  mucli  in- 
justice; and  it  is  time  this  should  cease." 

"0  !"  cries  he,  "nobody  minds  here.  They  think  it 
only  natural.  I  have  shameful  proclivities.  I  am  a 
niggardly  dog,"  and  he  drove  his  knife  up  to  the  hilt. 
"But  I  will  show  that  fellow,"  he  cried  with  an  oath, 
"I  will  show  him  which  is  the  more  generous." 

"This  is  no  generosity,"  said  I,  "this  is  only 
pride." 

"Do  you  think  I  want  morality  ?"  he  asked. 

I  thought  he  wanted  help,  and  I  should  give  it  him, 
willy-nilly ;  and  no  sooner  was  Mrs.  Henry  gone  to  her 
room,  than  I  presented  myself  at  her  door  and  sought 
admittance. 

She  openly  showed  her  wonder.  "  What  do  you  want 
with  me,  Mr.  Mackellar  ?"  said  she. 

"The  Lord  knows,  madam,"  says  I,  "I  have  never 
troubled  you  before  with  any  freedoms  ;  but  this  thing 
lies  too  hard  upon  my  conscience,  and  it  will  out.  Is 
it  possible  that  two  people  can  be  so  blind  as  you  and 
my  lord  ?  and  have  lived  all  these  years  with  a  noble 
gentleman  like  Mr.  Henry,  and  understand  so  little  of 
his  nature  ?  " 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  Do  you  not  know  where  his  money  goes  to  ?  his — 
and  yours — and  the  money  for  the  very  wine  he  does 
not  drink  at  table?"  I  went  on.  "To  Paris — to  that 
man  !      Eight  thousand  pounds  has  he  had  of  us   in 


94  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

seven  years,  and  my  patron  fool  enough  to  keep  it 
secret !  '* 

**  Eight  thousand  pounds  !  ■'  she  repeated.  "  It  is 
impossible,  the  estate  is  not  sufficient." 

*'*God  knows  how  we  have  sweated  farthings  to  pro- 
duce it,"  said  I.  '^  But  eight  thousand  and  sixty  is  the 
sum,  beside  odd  shillings.  And  if  you  can  think  my 
patron  miserly  after  that,  this  shall  be  my  last  interfer- 
ence." 

''  You  need  say  no  more,  Mr.  Mackellar,"  said  she. 
"You  have  done  most  properly  in  what  you  too  mod- 
estly call  your  interference.  I  am  much  to  blame  ;  you 
must  think  me  indeed  a  very  unobservant  wife" — (look- 
ing upon  me  with  a  strange  smile) — "hut  I  shall  put 
this  right  at  once.  The  Master  was  always  of  a  very 
thoughtless  nature  ;  but  his  heart  is  excellent ;  he  is  the 
soul  of  generosity.  I  shall  write  to  him  myself.  You 
cannot  think  how  you  have  pained  me  by  this  commu- 
nication." 

"  Indeed,  madam,  I  had  hoped  to  have  pleased  you," 
said  I,  for  I  raged  to  see  her  still  thinking  of  the  Mas- 
ter. 

"And  pleased,"  said  she,  "and  pleased  me  of  course." 

That  same  day  (I  will  not  say  but  what  I  watched)  I 
had  the  satisfaction  to  see  Mr.  Henry  come  from  his 
wife's  room  in  a  state  most  unlike  himself  ;  for  his  face 
was  all  bloated  with  weeping,  and  yet  he  seemed  to  me 
to  walk  upon  the  air.     By  this,  I  was  sure  his  wife  had 


PERSECUTIONS.  95 

made  him  full  amends  for  once  ;  ''Ah,"  thought  I,  to 
myself,  "I  have  done  a  brave  stroke  this  day." 

On  the  morrow,  as  I  was  seated  at  my  books,  Mr. 
Henry  came  in  softly  behind  mo,  took  me  by  the  shoul- 
ders and  shook  me  in  a  manner  of  playfulness.  "  I  find 
you  are  a  faithless  fellow  after  all,"  says  he  ;  which  was 
his  only  reference  to  my  part,  but  the  tone  he  spoke  in 
was  more  to  me  than  any  eloquence  of  protestation. 
Nor  was  this  all  I  had  effected  ;  for  when  the  next  mes- 
senger came  (as  he  did  not  long  afterwards)  from  the 
Master,  he  got  nothing  away  with  him  but  a  letter.  For 
some  while  back,  it  had  been  I  myself  who  had  con- 
ducted these  affairs  ;  Mr.  Ilenry  not  setting  pen  to  paper, 
and  I  only  in  the  dryest  and  most  formal  terms.  But 
this  letter  I  did  not  even  see  ;  it  would  scarce  be  pleas- 
ant reading,  for  Mr.  Henry  felt  he  had  his  wife  behind 
him  for  once,  and  I  observed,  on  the  day  it  was  dis- 
patched, he  had  a  very  gratified  expression. 

Things  went  better  now  in  the  family,  thongh  it  could 
scarce  be  pretended  they  went  well.  There  was  now  at 
least,  no  misconception  ;  there  was  kindness  upon  all 
sides  ;  and  I  believe  my  patron  and  his  wife  might  again 
have  drawn  together,  if  he  could  but  have  pocketed 
his  pride,  and  she  forgot  (what  was  the  ground  of  all) 
her  brooding  on  another  man.  It  is  wonderful  how  a 
private  thought  leaks  out;  it  is  wonderful  to  me  now, 
how  we  should  all  have  followed  the  current  of  her  sen- 
timents ;  and  though  she  bore  herself  quietly,  and  had  a 


96  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

very  even  disposition,  yet  we  sliould  have  known  when- 
ever her  fimcy  ran  to  Paris.  And  would  not  any  one 
have  thought  that  my  disclosure  must  have  rooted  up 
that  idol  ?  I  think  there  is  the  devil  in  women  :  all  these 
years  passed,  never  a  sight  of  the  man,  little  enough 
kindness  to  remember  (by  all  accounts)  even  while  she 
had  him,  the  notion  of  his  death  intervening,  his  heart- 
less rapacity  laid  bare  to  her  :  that  all  should  not  do, 
and  she  must  still  keep  the  best  place  in  her  heart  for 
this  accursed  fellow,  is  a  thing  to  make  a  plain  man 
rage.  I  had  never  much  natural  sympathy  for  the  pas- 
sion of  love  ;  but  this  unreason  in  my  patron's  wife  dis- 
gusted me  outright  with  the  whole  matter.  I  remember 
checking  a  maid,  because  she  sang  some  bairnly  kick- 
shaw while  my  mind  was  thus  engaged  ;  and  ray  asper- 
ity brought  about  my  ears  the  enmity  of  all  the  petticoats 
about  the  house  ;  of  which  I  recked  very  little,  but  it 
amused  Mr.  Henry,  who  riillied  me  much  upon  our  joint 
unpopularity.  It  is  strange  enough  (for  my  own  mother 
was  certainly  one  of  the  salt  of  the  earth  and  my  Aunt 
Dickson,  who  paid  my  fees  at  the  University,  a  very 
notable  woman)  but  1  have  never  had  much  toleration 
for  the  female  sex,  possibly  not  much  understanding ; 
and  being  far  from  a  bold  man,  I  have  ever  shunned 
their  company.  Not  only  do  I  see  no  cause  to  regret 
this  diffidence  in  myself,  but  have  invariably  remarked 
the  most  unhap])y  consequences  follow  those  who  were 
less  wise.     So  much  I  thought  proper  to  set  down,  lest 


PERSECUTIONS,  97 

I  show  myself  unjust  to  Mrs.  Henry.  And  besides  the 
remark  arose  naturally,  on  a  reperusal  of  the  letter 
which  was  the  next  step  in  these  affairs,  and  reached 
me  to  ray  sincere  astonishment  by  a  private  hand,  some 
week  or  bo  after  the  departure  of  the  last  messenger. 

Letter  from   Voionel  Burke  {afterwards   Chevalier)  to  Mb. 
Mackellab. 

Teotes  in  Champagne,  ) 
Jidy  12,  1756.  \ 

My  Dear  Sir : — You  will  doubtless  be  surpnsed  to  receive  a 
communication  from  one  so  little  known  to  you  ;  bat  on  the  occa- 
sion 1  had  the  good  fortune  to  rencounter  you  at  Dumsdeer,  I  re- 
marked you  for  a  young  man  of  a  solid  gravity  of  character  :  a 
qualification  which  I  profess  I  admire  and  revere  nest  to  natural 
genius  or  the  bold  chivalrous  spirit  of  the  soldier.  I  was  beoides 
interested  in  the  noble  family  which  you  have  the  honour  to  ser've 
or  (to  speak  more  by  the  book)  to  be  the  humble  and  respected 
friend  of  ;  and  a  conversation  I  had  the  pleasure  to  have  with  you 
very  early  in  the  morning  has  remained  much  upon  my  mind. 

Being  the  other  day  in  Paris,  on  a  visit  from  this  famous  citj 
where  I  am  in  garrison,  I  took  occasion  to  inquire  your  name 
(which  I  profess  I  had  forgot)  at  my  friend,  the  Master  of  B. ;  and 
a  fair  opportunity  occurring,  I  write  to  inform  you  of  what's  new. 

The  Master  of  B.  (when  we  had  last  seme  talk  of  him  together; 
was  in  receipt,  as  I  think  1  then  told  you,  of  a  highly  advantageous 
pension  on  the  Scots  Fund.  He  next  received  a  company,  and 
was  soon  after  advanced  to  a  regiment  of  his  own.  My  dear  Sir,  I 
do  not  offer  to  explain  this  circumstance  ;  any  more  than  why  I 
myself,  who  have  rid  at  tlie  right  hand  of  Princes,  should  be 
fubbed  off  with  a  pair  of  colours  and  sent  to  rot  in  a  hole  at  the 
bottom  of  the  province.     Accustomed  as  I  am  to  courts,  I  cannot 


98  THE    MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

but  feel  it  is  no  atmosphere  for  a  plain  soldier  ;  and  I  could  nevei 
hope  to  advance  by  similar  means,  even  could  I  stoop  to  the  en- 
deavour. But  our  friend  has  a  particular  aptitude  to  succeed  by 
the  means  of  ladies  ;  and  if  all  be  tnie  that  I  have  heard,  he  en- 
joyed a  remarkable  protection.  It  is  like  this  turned  against  him  ; 
for  when  I  had  the  honour  to  shake  him  by  the  hand,  he  was  but 
newly  released  from  the  Bastille  where  he  had  been  cast  on  a  sealed 
letter  ;  and  though  now  released,  has  both  lost  his  regiment  and 
his  pension.  My  dear  Sir,  the  loyalty  of  a  plain  Irishman  will 
ultimately  succeed  in  the  place  of  craft  ;  as  I  am  sure  a  gentleman 
of  your  probity  will  agree. 

Now,  Sir,  the  Master  is  a  man  whose  genius  I  admire  beyond 
expression,  and  besides  he  is  my  friend ;  but  I  thought  a  little 
word  of  this  revolution  in  his  fortunes  would  not  come  amiss,  for 
in  my  opinion,  the  man's  desperate.  lie  spoke  when  I  saw  him  of 
a  trip  to  India  (whither  I  am  myself  in  some  hope  of  accompany- 
ing my  illustrious  countryman,  Mr.  Lally") ;  but  for  this  he  would 
require  (as  I  understood)  more  money  than  was  readily  at  his  com- 
mand. You  may  have  heard  a  military  proverb  ;  that  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  make  a  bridge  of  gold  to  a  flying  enemy  ?  I  trust  you 
will  take  my  meaning  ; — and  I  subscribe  myself,  with  proper  re- 
spects to  my  Lord  Durrisdeer,  to  his  son,  and  to  the  beauteous 

Mrs.  Durie, 

My  dear  Sir, 

Your  obedient  humble  servant 

Francis  Burke. 

This  missive  I  carried  at  once  to  Mr.  Henry  ;  and  I 
think  there  was  but  the  one  thought  between  the  two  of 
us  :  that  it  had  come  a  week  too  late.  I  made  haste  to 
send  an  answer  to  Colonel  Burke,  in  which  I  begged 
him,  if  he  should  see  the  Master,  to  assure  him  his  next 


PERSECUTIONS.  \)y 

messenger  would  be  attended  to.  But  with  all  my  haste 
I  was  not  in  time  to  avert  what  was  impending  ;  the 
arrow  had  been  drawn,  it  must  now  fly.  I  could  almost 
doubt  the  power  of  providence  (and  certainly  his  will) 
to  stay  the  issue  of  events  ;  and  it  is  a  strange  thought, 
how  many  of  us  had  been  storing  up  the  elements  of 
this  catastrophe,  for  how  long  a  time,  and  with  how 
blind  an  ignorance  of  what  we  did. 

From  the  coming  of  the  Colonel's  letter,  I  had  a  spy- 
glass in  my  room,  began  to  drop  questions  to  the  tenant 
folk,  and  as  there  was  no  great  secrecy  observed  and  the 
freetrade  (in  our  part)  went  by  force  as  much  as 
stealth,  I  had  soon  got  together  a  knowledge  of  the  sig- 
nals in  use,  and  knew  pretty  well  to  an  hour  when  any 
messenger  might  be  expected.  I  say  I  questioned  the 
tenants  ;  for  with  the  traders  themselves,  desperate 
blades  that  went  habitually  armed,  I  could  never  bring 
myself  to  meddle  willingly.  Indeed,  by  what  proved  in 
the  sequel  an  unhappy  chance,  I  was  an  object  of  scorn 
to  some  of  these  braggadocios  ;  who  had  not  only  grati- 
fied me  with  a  nickname,  but  catching  me  one  night 
upon  a  by-j^ath  and  being  all  (as  they  would  have  said) 
somewhat  merry,  had  caused  me  to  dance  for  their 
diversion.  The  method  employed  was  that  of  cruelly 
chipping  at  my  toes  with  naked  cutlasses,  shouting  at 
the  same  time  '^  Square-Toes  " ;  and  though  they  did 
me  no  bodily  mischief,  I  was  none  the  less  deplorablj 


100  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLANTRAE. 

affected  and  was  indeed  for  several  days  confined  to  my 
bed  :  a  scandal  on  the  state  of  Scotland  on  which  no 
comment  is  required. 

It  hapjiened  on  the  afternoon  of  November  7th,  in 
this  same  unfortunate  year,  that  I  espied,  during  my 
walk,  the  smoke  of  a  beacon  fire  upon  the  Muckleross. 
It  was  drawing  near  time  for  my  return  ;  but  the  un- 
easiness upon  my  spirits  was  that  day  so  great,  that  I 
must  burst  through  the  thickets  to  the  edge  of  what 
they  call  the  Craig  Head.  The  sun  was  already  down, 
but  there  was  still  a  broad  light  in  the  west,  which 
showed  me  some  of  the  smugglers  treading  out  their  sig- 
nal fire  upon  the  Ross,  and  in  the  bay  the  lugger  lying 
with  her  sails  brailed  up.  She  was  plainly  but  new  come 
to  anchor,  and  yet  the  skiff  was  already  lowered  and 
pulling  for  the  landing  place  at  the  end  of  the  long 
shrubbery.  And  this  I  knew  could  signify  but  one 
thing,  the  coming  of  a  messenger  for  Durrisdeer. 

I  laid  aside  the  remainder  of  my  terrors,  clambered 
down  the  brae — a  place  I  had  never  ventured  through 
before,  and  was  hid  among  the  shore-side  thickets  in 
time  to  see  the  boat  touch.  Captain  Crail  himself  was 
steering,  a  thing  not  usual  ;  by  his  side  there  sat  a  pas- 
senger ;  and  the  men  gave  way  with  difficulty,  being 
hampered  with  near  upon  half  a  dozen  portmanteaus, 
great  and  small.  But  the  business  of  landing  was 
briskly  carried  through  ;  and  presently  the  baggage  was 
all  tumbled  on  shore,  the  boat  on  its  return  voyage  to 


THE     l"ASSEN(iEB    STANDING    ALONE    UPON    THE    POINT    OP    ROCK,    A    TALL, 
SLENDER  FIGURE  OF  A   GENTLEMAN,   HABITED  IN   BLACK. 


PERSECUTIONS.  101 

the  lugger,  and  the  passenger  standing  alone  upon  the 
point  of  rock,  a  tall  slender  figure  of  a  gentleman,  hab- 
ited in  black,  with  a  sword  by  his  side  and  a  walking 
cane  upon  his  wrist.  As  he  so  stood,  he  waved  the  cane 
to  Captain  Orail  by  way  of  salutation,  with  something 
both  of  grace  and  mockery  that  wrote  the  gesture  deeply 
on  my  mind. 

No  sooner  was  the  boat  away  with  my  sworn  enemies, 
than  I  took  a  sort  of  half  courage,  came  forth  to  the 
margin  of  the  thicket,  and  there  halted  again,  my  mind 
being  greatly  jJulled  about  between  natural  diffidence 
and  a  dark  foreboding  of  the  truth.  Indeed  I  might 
have  stood  there  swithering  all  night,  had  not  the  stran- 
ger turned,  spied  me  through  the  mists,  which  were  be- 
ginning to  fall,  and  waved  and  cried  on  me  to  draw 
near.     I  did  so  with  a  heart  like  lead. 

"Here,  my  good  man,"  said  he,  in  the  English 
accent,  "  here  are  some  things  for  Durrisdeer." 

I  was  now  near  enough  to  see  him,  a  very  handsome 
figure  and  countenance,  swarthy,  lean,  long,  with  a 
quick,  alert,  black  look,  as  of  one  who  was  a  fighter  and. 
accustomed  to  command  ;  upon  one  cheek,  he  had  a 
mole,  not  unbecoming ;  a  large  diamond  sparkled  on  his 
hand  ;  his  clothes,  although  of  the  one  hue,  were  of  a 
French  and  foppish  design  ;  his  ruffles,  which  he  wore 
longer  than  common,  of  exquisite  lace  ;  and  I  wondered 
the  more  to  see  him  in  such  a  guise,  when  he  was  but 
newly  lauded  from  a  dirty  smuggling  lugger.     At  the 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

OA-KTTA     TJAT?_14T?A     rTtX  1  VCIV.    T.TRPAT?V 


102  THE    MASTER   OF   BALLAXTRAE. 

same  time,  he  had  a  better  look  at  me,  toised  me  a  sec- 
ond  time  sliarply,  and  then  smiled. 

"I  wager,  my  friend,"  says  he,  "that  I  know  both 
your  name  and  yonr  nickname.  I  divined  these  very 
clothes  upon  yonr  hand  of  writing,  Mr.  Mackellar." 

At  these  words,  I  fell  to  shaking. 

"  0,"  says  he,  "  you  need  not  be  afraid  of  me,  1 
bear  no  malice  for  your  tedious  letters  ;  and  it  is  my 
purpose  to  employ  you  a  good  deal.  You  may  call  me 
Mr.  Bally  :  it  is  the  name  I  have  assumed  ;  or  rather 
(since  I  am  addressing  so  great  a  precision)  it  is  so  I 
have  curtailed  my  own.  Come  now,  pick  up  that  and 
that " — indicating  two  of  the  portmanteaus.  "  That 
will  be  as  much  as  you  are  fit  to  bear,  and  the  rest  can 
very  well  wait.  Come,  lose  no  more  time,  if  you 
please." 

His  tone  was  so  cutting  that  I  managed  to  do  as  he 
bid  by  a  sort  of  instinct,  my  mind  being  all  the  time 
quite  lost.  No  sooner  had  I  picked  up  the  portman- 
teaus, tlian  he  turned  his  back  and  marched  off  through 
the  long  shrubbery  ;  where  it  began  already  to  be  dusk, 
for  tlie  wood  is  thick  and  evergreen.  I  followed  behind, 
loaded  almost  to  the  dust,  though  I  profess  I  was  not 
conscious  of  the  burthen  ;  being  swallowed  up  in  the 
monstrosity  of  this  return  and  my  mind  flying  like  a 
weaver's  shuttle. 

On  a  sudden  I  set  the  portmanteaus  to  the  ground 
and  halted.     He  turned  and  looked  back  at  me. 


PERSECUTIONS.  103 

"  Well  ?  "  said  he. 

"  You  are  the  Master  of  Ballantrae  ?  " 

"  Yon  will  do  me  the  justice  to  observe,"  says  he. 
''tliat  I  have  made  no  secret  with  the  astute  Mac- 
kellar." 

''And  in  the  name  of  God,"  cries  I,  ''what  brings 
you  here  ?    Go  back,  while  it  is  yet  time." 

"I  thank  you,"  said  ho.  "Your  master  has  chosen 
this  way,  and  not  I ;  but  since  he  has  made  the  choice, 
he  (and  you  also)  must  abide  by  the  result.  And  now 
pick  up  these  things  of  mine,  which  you  have  set  down 
in  a  very  boggy  place,  and  attend  to  that  which  I  have 
made  your  business." 

But  I  had  no  thought  now  of  obedience  ;  I  came 
straight  up  to  him.  "  If  nothing  will  move  you  to  go 
back,"  said  I;  "though  sure,  under  all  the  circum- 
stances, any  Christian  or  even  any  gentleman  would 
scruple  to  go  forward.     .     ." 

"These  are  gratifying  expressions,"  he  threw  in. 

"If  nothing  will  move  you  to  go  back,"  I  continued, 
"  there  are  still  some  decencies  to  be  observed.  Wait  here 
with  yonr  baggage,  and  I  will  go  forward  and  prepare 
your  family.  Your  father  is  an  old  man  ;  and  ..." 
I  stumbled   .    .    .    ''there  are  decencies  to  be  observed." 

"Truly,"  said  ho,  "tliis  Mackellar  improves  upon 
acquaintance.  But  look  you  here,  my  man,  and  under- 
stand it  once  for  all — you  waste  your  breath  upon  me, 
and  I  go  my  own  way  with  inevitable  motion." 


104  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

*' Ah  ! "  says  I.     "  Is  that  so  ?    Wc  shall  sec  then  ! " 

And  I  turned  and  took  to  my  heels  for  Durrisdeer. 
He  clutched  at  me  and  cried  out  angrily,  and  then  I 
believe  I  heard  him  laugh,  and  then  I  am  certain  he 
pursued  me  for  a  step  or  two,  and  (I  suppose)  desisted. 
One  thing  at  least  is  sure,  that  I  came  but  a  few 
minutes  later  to  the  door  of  the  great  house,  nearly 
strangled  for  the  lack  of  breath  but  quite  alone. 
Straight  up  the  stair  I  ran,  and  burst  into  the  hall,  and 
stopped  before  the  family  without  the  power  of  speech  ; 
but  I  must  have  carried  my  story  in  my  looks  for  they 
rose  out  of  their  places  and  stared  on  me  like  change- 
lings. 

"  He  has  come,"  I  panted  out  at  last. 

*'He?"said  Mr.  Henry. 

"  Himself,"  said  I. 

**My  son?"  cried  my  lord.  "Imprudent,  impru- 
dent boy  !     0,  could  he  not  stay  where  he  was  safe  !" 

Never  a  word  said  Mrs.  Henry  ;  nor  did  I  look  at  her, 
I  scarce  knew  why. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Henry,  with  a  very  deep  breath, 
"  and  where  is  he  ?  " 

"I  left  him  in  the  long  shrubbery,"  said  I. 

**Take  me  to  him,"  said  he. 

So  we  went  out  together,  he  and  I,  without  another 
word  from  any  one  ;  and  in  the  midst  of  the  gravelled 
plot,  encountered  the  Master  strolling  up,  whistling  as 
he  came  and  beating  the  air  with  his  cane.     There  was 


PERSECUTIONS.  105 

still  liglit  enough  overhead  to  recognise  though  not  to 
read  a  countenance. 

"Ah,  Jacob!"  says  the  Master.  "So  here  is  Esau 
back." 

"James,"  says  Mr.  Henry,  "for  God's  sake,  call  me 
by  my  name.  I  will  not  pretend  that  I  am  glad  to  see 
you ;  but  I  would  fain  make  you  as  welcome  as  I  can  in 
the  house  of  our  fathers." 

*'  Or  in  my  house  ?  or  yours  ? "  says  the  Master. 
*' Which  was  you  about  to  say?  But  this  is  an  old 
sore,  and  we  need  not  rub  it.  If  you  would  not  share 
with  me  in  Paris,  I  hope  you  will  yet  scarce  deny  your 
elder  brother  a  corner  of  the  fire  at  Durrisdeer  ?" 

"  That  is  very  idle  speech,"  replied  Mr.  Henry.  "  And 
you  understand  the  power  of  your  position  excellently 
well." 

"Why,  I  believe  I  do,"  said  the  other  with  a  little 
laugh.  And  this,  though  they  had  never  touched 
hands,  was  (as  we  may  say)  the  end  of  the  brothers' 
meeting  ;  for  at  this,  the  Master  turned  to  me  and  bade 
me  fetch  his  baggage. 

I,  on  my  side,  turned  to  Mr.  Henry  for  a  confirma- 
tion ;  perhaps  with  some  defiance. 

"  As  long  as  the  Master  is  here,  Mr.  Mackellar,  you 
will  very  much  oblige  me  by  regarding  his  wishes  as  you 
would  my  own,"  says  Mr.  Henry.  "We  are  constantly 
troubling  you  :  will  you  be  so  good  as  send  one  of  the 
servants  ?" — with  an  accent  on  the  word. 


106  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

If  this  speech  were  anything  at  all,  it  was  surely  a  well 
deserved  reproof  upon  the  stranger  ;  and  yet,  so  devilish 
was  his  impudence,  he  twisted  it  the  other  way. 

*'Aud  shall  we  be  common  enough  to  say  'Sneck 
up  ? '  "  inquires  he  softly,  looking  upon  me  sideways. 

Had  a  kingdom  depended  on  the  act,  I  could  not 
have  trusted  myself  in  words ;  even  to  call  a  servant 
was  beyond  me ;  I  had  rather  serve  the  man  myself 
than  speak  ;  and  I  turned  away  in  silence  and  went  into 
the  long  shrubbery,  with  a  heart  full  of  anger  and  de- 
spair. It  was  dark  under  the  trees,  and  I  walked  be- 
fore me  and  forgot  what  business  I  was  come  upon,  till 
I  near  broke  my  shin  on  the  portmanteaus.  Then  it 
was  that  I  remarked  a  strange  particular  ;  for  whereas 
I  had  before  carried  both  and  scarce  observed  it,  it  was 
now  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  manage  one.  And  this, 
as  it  forced  me  to  make  two  journeys,  kept  me  the 
longer  from  the  hall. 

When  I  got  there  the  business  of  welcome  was  over 
long  ago  ;  the  company  was  already  at  supper ;  and  by 
an  oversight  that  cut  me  to  the  quick,  my  place  had 
been  forgotten.  I  had  seen  one  side  of  the  Master's 
return  ;  now  I  was  to  see  the  other.  It  was  he  who  first 
remarked  my  coming  in  and  standing  back  (as  I  did)  in 
some  annoyance.     He  jumped  from  his  seat. 

*'  And  if  1  have  not  got  the  good  ^lackellar's  place  ! " 
cries  he.  "John  lay  another  for  Mr.  Bally  ;  I  protest  he 
will  disturb  no  one,  and  your  table  is  big  enough  for  all." 


PERSECUTIONS.  107 

I  could  scarce  credit  my  ears  ;  nor  yet  my  senses  wTicn 
he  took  me  by  the  shoulders  and  thrust  me  laughing 
into  my  own  place ;  such  an  affectionate  playfulness 
was  in  his  voice.  And  while  John  kid  the  fresh  place 
for  him  (a  thing  on  which  he  still  insisted)  he  went  and 
leaned  on  his  father's  chair  and  looked  down  ujion  him, 
and  the  old  man  turned  about  and  looked  upwards  on 
his  son,  with  such  a  pleasant  mutual  tenderness,  that  I 
could  have  carried  my  hand  to  my  head  in  mere  amaze- 
ment. 

Yet  all  was  of  a  piece.  Never  a  harsh  word  fell  from 
him,  never  a  sneer  showed  upon  his  lip.  He  had  laid 
aside  even  his  cutting  English  accent,  and  spoke  with 
tlie  kindly  Scots  tongue,  that  sets  a  value  on  affectionate 
words  ;  and  though  his  manners  had  a  graceful  ele- 
gance mighty  foreign  to  our  ways  in  Durrisdeer,  it  was 
still  a  homely  courtliness,  that  did  not  shame  but  flat- 
tered us.  All  that  he  did  throughout  the  meal,  indeed, 
drinking  wine  with  me  with  a  notable  respect,  turning 
about  for  a  pleasant  word  with  John,  fondling  his 
father's  hand,  breaking  into  little  merry  tales  of  his  ad- 
ventures, calling  up  the  past  with  happy  reference — all  he 
did  was  so  becoming,  and  himself  so  handsome,  that  I 
could  scarce  wonder  if  my  lord  and  Mrs.  Henry  sat 
about  the  board  with  radiant  faces,  or  if  John  waited 
behind  with  dropping  tears. 

As  soon  as  sujjper  was  over,  Mrs.  Henry  rose  to  with- 
draw. 


108  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

"This  was  never  your  way,  Alison,"  said  he. 

'"^It  is  my  way  now,"  she  replied  :  which  was  notori- 
ously false,  "and  I  will  give  you  a  good-night  James, 
and  a  welcome — ^from  the  dead,"  said  she,  and  her  voice 
droo])ed  and  trembled. 

Poor  Mr.  Henry,  who  had  made  rather  a  heavy  figure 
through  the  meal,  was  more  concerned  than  ever : 
pleased  to  see  his  wife  withdraw,  and  yet  half  displeased, 
as  he  thought  upon  the  cause  of  it ;  and  the  next  mo- 
ment altogether  dashed  by  the  fervour  of  her  speech. 

On  my  part,  I  thought  I  was  now  one  too  many ;  and 
was  stealing  after  Mis.  Henry,  when  the  Master  saw 
me. 

"Now,  Mr.  Mackellar,"  says  he,  "I  take  this  near  on 
an  unfriendliness.  I  cannot  have  you  go  :  this  is  to 
make  a  stranger  of  the  prodigal  son — and  Jet  me  remind 
you  where — in  his  own  father's  house  !  Come,  sit  ye 
down,  and  drink  another  glass  with  Mr.  Bally." 

"Ay,  ay,  Mr.  Mackellar,"  says  my  lord,  "we  must 
not  make  a  stranger  either  of  him  or  you.  I  have  been 
telling  my  son,"  he  added,  his  voice  brightening  as 
usual  on  the  word,  "how  much  we  valued  all  your 
friendly  service." 

So  I  sat  there  silent  till  my  usual  hour  ;  and  might 
have  been  almost  deceived  in  the  man's  nature,  but  for 
one  passage  in  which  his  perfidy  appeared  too  plain. 
Here  was  the  passage  ;  of  which,  after  what  he  knows 
of  the  brothers'  meetiuor,  the  reader  shall  consider  foi 


PERSECUTIONS.  109 

himself.  Mr.  Ilenry  sitting  somewhat  dully,  in  spite  of 
his  best  endeavours  to  carry  things  before  my  lord,  up 
jumps  the  Master,  passes  about  the  board,  and  claps  his 
brother  on  the  shouldei". 

"Come,  come,  Hairry  lad,^'  says  he,  with  a  broad 
accent  such  as  they  must  have  used  together  when  they 
were  boys,  ''you  must  not  be  downcast  because  your 
brother  has  come  home.  All's  yours,  that's  sure  enough, 
and  little  I  grudge  it  you.  Neither  must  you  grudge 
me  my  place  beside  my  father's  fire." 

*' And  that  is  too  true,  Henry,"  says  my  old  lord  with 
a  little  frown,  a  thing  rare  with  him.  "You  have  been 
the  elder  brother  of  the  parable  in  the  good  sense  ;  you 
must  be  careful  of  the  other." 

"I  am  easily  put  in  the  wrong,"  said  Mr.  Henry. 

"Who  puts  you  in  the   wrong?"  cried   my  lord,  I 

thought  very  tartly  for  so  mild  a  man.     "You   have 

earned  my  gratitude  and  your  brother's  many  thousand 

times  ;  you  may  count  on  its  endurance;  and  let  that 

^-^  suffice." 

"Ay,  Harry,  that  you  may,"  said  the  Master;  and  I 
thought  Mr.  Henry  looked  at  him  with  a  kind  of  wildr 
ness  in  his  eye. 

On  all  the  miserable  business  that  now  followed,  I 
have  four  questions  that  I  asked  myself  often  at  the 
time  and  ask  myself  still.  Was  the  man  moved  by  a 
particular  sentiment  against  Mr.  Henry  ?  or  by  what  he 


110  THE   MASTER    OF   BALLANTRAE. 

thouglit  to  be  his  interest  ?  or  by  a  mere  delight  in  cni- 
elty  such  as  cats  display  and  theologians  tell  us  of  the 
devil  ?  or  by  what  he  would  have  called  love  ?  My 
common  opinion  halts  among  the  three  first;  but  per^ 
haps  there  lay  at  the  spring  of  his  behaviour,  an  element 
of  all.  As  thus  :  Animosity  to  Mr.  Henry  would  ex- 
plain his  hateful  usage  of  him  wlien  they  were  alone; 
the  interests  he  came  to  serve  would  explain  his  very 
different  attitude  before  my  lord ;  that  and  some  spice 
of  a  design  of  gallantry,  his  care  to  stand  well  with  Mrs. 
Henry  ;  and  the  pleasure  of  malice  for  itself,  the  pains 
he  was  continually  at  to  mingle  and  oppose  these  lines 
of  conduct. 

Partly  because  I  was  a  very  open  friend  to  my 
patron,  partly  because  in  my  letters  to  Paris  I  had 
often  given  myself  some  freedom  of  rcmoustrance,  I  was 
included  in  his  diabolical  amusement.  When  I  was 
alone  with  him,  he  pursued  me  with  sneers  ;  before  the 
family,  he  used  me  with  the  extreme  of  friendly  conde- 
scension. This  was  not  only  painful  in  itself ;  not  only 
did  it  put  me  continually  in  the  wrong  ;  but  there  was 
in  it  an  element  of  insult  indescribable.  That  he  should 
thus  leave  me  oat  in  his  dissimulation,  as  though  even 
my  testimony  were  too  despicable  to  be  considered, 
galled  me  to  the  blood.  But  what  it  was  to  me  is  not 
worth  notice.  I  make  but  memorandum  of  it  here  ;  and 
chiefly  for  this  reason,  that  it  had  one  good  result,  and 
gave  me  the  quicker  sense  of  Mr.  Henry's  martyrdom. 


PERSECUTIONS.  Ill 

It  was  en  him  the  burthen  fell.  How  was  he  to  re- 
spond to  the  pul)lic  advances  of  one  who  never  lost  a 
chance  of  gibing  him  in  private  ?  How  was  he  to  smile 
back  on  the  deceiver  and  the  insulter  ?  He  was  con- 
demned to  seem  ungracious.  He  was  condemned  to 
silence.  Had  he  been  less  proud,  had  he  spoken,  who  would 
have. credited  the  truth  ?  The  acted  calumny  had  done  its 
work  ;  my  lord  and  Mrs.  Henry  were  the  daily  witnesses 
of  what  went  on  ;  they  could  have  sworn  in  court  that 
the  Master  was  a  model  of  long-suffering  good- nature 
and  Mr.  Henry  a  pattern  of  jealousy  and  thanklessness. 
And  ugly  enough  as  these  must  have  appeared  in  any 
one,  they  seemed  tenfold  uglier  in  Mr.  Henry ;  for  who 
could  forget  that  the  Master  lay  in  peril  of  his  life,  and 
that  he  had  already  lost  his  mistress,  his  title  and  his 
fortune  ? 

''Henry,  will  you  ride  with  me?"  asks  the  Master 
one  day. 

And  Mr.  Henry,  who  had  been  goaded  by  the  man  all 
morning,  raps  out  :  "I  will  not." 

"I  sometimes  wish  you  would  be  kinder,  Henry,"  says 
the  other  wistfully. 

I  give  this  for  a  specimen  ;  but  such  scenes  befell  con- 
tinually. Small  wonder  if  Mr.  Henry  was  blamed  ;  small 
wonder  if  I  fretted  myself  into  something  near  upon  a 
bilious  fever ;  nay,  and  at  the  mere  recollection  feel  a 
bitterness  in  my  blood. 

Sure,    never   in    this   world   was   a   more   diabolical 


112  THE   MASTEK   OF   BALL.VXTKAE. 

contrivance  :  so  perfidious,  so  simple,  so  impossible  to 
combat.  And  yet  I  think  again,  and  I  think  always, 
Mrs.  Henry  might  have  read  between  the  lines ;  she 
might  have  had  more  knowledge  of  her  husband's  na- 
ture ;  after  all  these  years  of  marriage,  she  might  have 
commanded  or  captured  his  confidence.  And  my  old 
lord  too,  that  very  watchful  gentleman,  where  was  all  his 
observation  ?  But  for  one  thing,  the  deceit  was  prac- 
tised by  a  master  hand,  and  might  have  gulled  an  angel. 
For  another  (in  the  case  of  Mrs.  Henry),  I  have  observed 
there  are  no  persons  so  far  away  as  those  who  are  both 
married  and  estranged,  so  that  they  seem  out  of  earshot 
or  to  have  no  common  tongue.  For  a  third  (in  the  case 
of  both  of  these  spectators),  they  were  blinded  by  old, 
ingrained  predilection.  And  for  a  fourth,  the  risk  the 
Master  was  supposed  to  stand  in  (supposed,  I  say — you 
will  soon  hear  why)  made  it  seem  the  more  ungenerous 
to  criticise  ;  and  keeping  them  in  a  perpetual  tender  so- 
licitude about  his  life,  bliuded  them  the  more  effectually 
to  his  faults. 

It  Avas  during  this  time  that  I  perceived  most  clearly 
the  effect  of  manner,  and  was  led  to  lament  most  deeply 
the  plainness  of  my  own.  Mr.  Henry  had  the  essence 
of  a  gentleman  ;  when  he  was  moved,  when  there  was 
any  call  of  circumstance,  he  could  play  his  part  with 
dignity  and  spirit ;  but  in  the  day's  commerce  (it  is  idle 
to  deny  it)  he  fell  short  of  the  ornamental.  The  Master 
(on  the  other  hand)  had  never  a  movement  but  it  com- 


PEESECUTIONS.  113 

mended  him.  So  it  befell,  that  when  the  one  appeared 
gracious  and  the  other  ungracious,  every  trick  of  their 
bodies  seemed  to  call  out  confirmation.  Nor  that  alone  : 
but  the  more  deejily  Mr.  Henry  floundered  in  his  broth- 
er's toils,  the  more  clownish  he  grew  ;  and  the  more  the 
Master  enjoyed  his  spiteful  entertainment,  the  more  en- 
gagingly, the  more  smilingly,  he  went !  So  that  the  plot, 
by  its  own  scope  and  progress,  furthered  and  confirmed 
itself. 

It  was  one  of  the  man's  arts  to  nse  the  peril  in  which 
(as  I  say)  he  was  supposed  to  stand.  He  spoke  of  it  to 
those  who  loved  him  with  a  gentle  pleasantry,  which 
made  it  the  more  touching.  To  Mr.  Henry,  he  used  it 
as  a  cruel  weapon  of  offence.  I  remember  his  laying 
his  finger  on  the  clean  lozenge  of  the  painted  window, 
one  day  when  we  three  were  alone  together  in  the  hall. 
*'Here  went  your  lucky  guinea,  Jacob,"  said  he.  And 
when  Mr.  Henry  only  looked  upon  him  darkly,  "0," 
he  added,  ''you  need  not  look  such  impotent  malice, 
my  good  fly.  You  can  be  rid  of  your  spider  when  you 
please.  How  long,  0  Lord  ?  When  are  you  to  be  wrought 
to  the  point  of  a  denunciation,  scrupulous  brother  ?  It 
is  one  of  my  interests  in  this  dreary  hole.  I  ever  loved 
experiment.".  Still  Mr.  Henry  only  stared  upon  him 
with  a  glooming  brow,  and  a  changed  colour  ;  and  at  last 
the  Master  broke  out  in  a  laugh  and  clapped  him  on 
the  shoulder,  calling  him  a  sulky  dog.  At  this  my  pa- 
tron leaped  back  with  a  gesture  I  thought  very  danger- 


114  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

ous  ;  and  I  must  suppose  the  Master  thought  so  too  ;  for 
h.e  looked  the  least  in  the  world  discountenanced,  and  1 
do  not  remember  him  again  to  have  laid  hands  on  Mr. 
Henry. 

But  though  he  had  his  peril  always  on  his  lips  in  the 
one  way  or  the  other,  I  thought  his  conduct  strangely  in- 
cautious, and  began  to  fancy  the  government  (who  had 
set  a  price  upon  his  head)  was  gone  sound  asleep.  I  will 
not  deny  I  was  tempted  with  the  wish  to  denounce  him  ; 
but  two  thoughts  withheld  me  :  one,  that  if  he  were  thus 
to  end  his  life  upon  an  honourable  scaffold,  the  man  would 
be  canonised  for  good  in  the  minds  of  his  father  and  my 
patron's  wife  :  the  other,  that  if  I  was  anyway  mingled 
in  the  matter,  Mr.  Henry  himself  would  scarce  escape 
some  glancings  of  suspicion.  And  in  the  meanwhile 
our  enemy  went  in  and  out  more  than  I  could  have 
thought  possible,  the  fact  that  he  was  home  again  was 
buzzed  about  all  the  countryside  ;  and  yet  he  was  never 
stirred.  Of  all  these  so-many  and  so-different  persons 
who  were  acquainted  with  his  presence,  none  had  the 
least  greed  (as  I  used  to  say,  in  my  annoyance)  or  the 
least  loyalty  ;  and  the  man  rode  here  and  there — fully 
more  welcome,  considering  the  lees  of  old  unpopularity, 
than  Mr.  Henry — and  considering  the  freetraders,  far 
safer  than  myself. 

Not  but  what  he  had  a  trouble  of  his  own  ;  and  this, 
as  it  brought  about  the  gravest  consequences,  I  must 
now  relate.     The  reader  will  scarce  have  forgotten  Jes- 


PERSECUTIONS.  115 

sie  Broun  ;  her  way  of  life  was  much  among  the  smug- 
gling party  ;  Captain  Crail  himself  was  of  her  intimates  ; 
and  she  had  early  word  of  Mr.  Bally's  presence  at  the 
house.  In  my  opinion  she  had  long  ceased  to  care  two 
straws  for  the  Master's  person  ;  but  it  was  become  her 
habit  to  connect  herself  continually  with  the  Master's 
name  ;  that  was  the  ground  of  all  her  j)lay-acting  ;  and  so, 
now  when  he  was  back,  she  thought  she  owed  it  to  her- 
self to  grow  a  haunter  of  the  neighbourhood  of  Durrisdeer. 
The  Master  could  scarce  go  abroad  but  she  was  there  in 
wait  for  him  ;  a  scandalous  figure  of  a  woman,  not  often 
sober  ;  hailing  him  wildly  as  ''her  bonny  laddie," quoting 
pedlar's  poetry,  and  as  I  receive  the  story,  even  seeking 
to  weep  upon  his  neck.  I  own  I  rubbed  my  hands  over 
this  persecution  ;  but  the  Master,  who  laid  so  much  upon 
others,  was  himself  the  least  patient  of  men.  There  were 
strange  scenes  enacted  in  the  policies.  Some  say  he  took 
his  cane  to  her,  and  Jessie  fell  back  upon  her  former 
weapon,  stones.  It  is  certain  at  least  that  he  made  a 
motion  to  Captain  Crail  to  have  the  woman  trepanned, 
and  that  the  Captain  refused  the  proposition  with  un- 
common vehemence.  And  the  end  of  the  matter  was 
victory  for  Jessie.  Money  was  got  together  ;  an  inter- 
view took  place  in  which  my  proud  gentleman  must  con- 
sent to  be  kissed  and  wept  upon  ;  and  the  woman  was  set 
up  in  a  public  of  her  own,  somewhere  on  Sol  way  side 
(but  I  forget  where)  and  by  the  only  news  I  ever  had  of 
it,  extremely  iil-frequented. 


116  THE   MASTEE   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

This  is  to  look  forward.  After  Jessie  had  been  but  a 
little  while  upon  his  heels,  the  Master  comes  to  me  one 
day  in  the  steward's  ofiBce,  and  with  more  civility  than 
usual,  ''Mackellar,"  says  he,  "  there  is  a  damned  crazy 
wench  comes  about  here.  I  cannot  well  more  in  the 
matter  myself,  which  brings  me  to  yon.  Be  so  good  as 
see  to  it :  the  men  must  have  a  strict  injunction  to  drive 
the  wench  away." 

"  Sir,"  said  I  trembling  a  little,  "  you  can  do  your  own 
dirty  errands  for  yourself." 

He  said  not  a  word  to  that,  and  left  the  room. 

Presently  came  Mr.  Henry.  "Here  is  news!"  cried 
he.  "  It  seems  all  is  not  enough,  and  you  must  add 
to  my  wretchedness.  It  seems  you  have  insulted  Mr. 
Bally. " 

"Under  your  kind  favour,  Mr.  Henry,"  said  I,  "it 
was  he  that  insulted  me,  and  as  1  think  grossly.  But  I 
may  have  been  careless  of  your  position  when  I  spoke  j 
and  if  you  think  so  when  you  know  all,  my  dear  patron, 
you  have  but  to  say  the  word.  For  you  I  would  obey  in 
any  point  Avhatever,  even  to  sin,  God  pardon  me  ! " 
And  thereupon  I  told  him  what  had  passed. 

Mr.  Henry  smiled  to  himself;  a  grimmer  smile  I  never 
witnessed.  "You  did  exactly  well,"  said  he.  "He 
shall  drink  his  Jessie  Broun  to  the  dregs."  And  then, 
spying  the  Master  outside,  he  opened  the  window,  and 
crying  to  him  by  the  name  of  Mr.  Bally,  asked  him  to 
step  up  and  have  a  word. 


PERSECUTIONS.  117 

''James,"  said  he,  when  our  persecutor  had  come  in 
and  Closed  the  door  behind  him,  looking  at  me  with  a 
smile  as  if  he  thought  I  was  to  be  humbled,  "you 
brought  me  a  complaint  against  Mr.  Mackellar  into 
which  I  have  inquired.  I  need  not  tell  you  I  would  al- 
ways take  his  word  against  yours ;  for  we  are  alone,  and 
I  am  going  to  use  something  of  your  own  freedom.  Mr. 
Mackellar  is  a  gentleman  I  value  ;  and  you  must  con- 
trive, so  long  as  you  are  under  this  roof,  to  bring  your- 
self into  no  more  collisions  with  one  whom  I  will  sup- 
port at  any  possible  cost  to  me  or  mine.  As  for  the 
errand  upon  which  you  came  to  him,  you  must  deliver 
yourself  from  the  consequences  of  your  own  cruelty,  and 
none  of  my  servants  shall  be  at  all  employed  iu  such  a 
case." 

''My  fatlier's  servants,  I  believe,"  says  the  Master. 

"Go  to  him  with  this  tale,"  said  Mr.  Henry. 

The  Master  grew  very  white.  He  pointed  at  me 
with  his  finger.  "  I  want  that  man  discharged,"  he 
said. 

"He  shall  not  be,"  said  Mr.  Henry. 

"You  shall  pay  pretty  dear  for  this,"  says  the  Mas- 
ter. 

"I  have  paid  so  dear  already  for  a  wicked  brother," 
said  Mr.  Henry,  "  that  I  am  bankrupt  even  of  fears. 
You  have  no  place  left  where  you  can  strike  me." 

"  I  will  show  you  about  that,"  says  the  Master,  and 
went  softly  away. 


118  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLANTRAE. 

**  What  will  he  do  next,  Mackellar  ? "  cries  Mr, 
Henry. 

"Let  me  go  away,"  said  I.  ''My  dear  patron,  let 
me  go  away  ;  I  am  but  the  beginning  of  fresh  sor- 
rows. " 

"  "Would  you  leave  me  quite  alone  ?"  said  he. 

We  were  not  long  in  suspense  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
new  assault.  Up  to  that  hour,  the  Master  liad  played  a 
very  close  game  with  Mrs.  Henry  ;  avoiding  pointedly 
to  be  alone  with  her,  which  I  took  at  the  time  for  an 
effect  of  decency,  but  now  think  to  be  a  most  insidious 
art;  meeting  her,  you  may  say,  at  mealtime  only;  and 
behaving,  when  he  did  so,  like  an  affectionate  brother. 
Up  to  that  hour,  you  may  say  he  had  scarce  directly  in- 
terfered between  Mr.  Henry  and  his  wife ;  except  in  so 
far  as  he  had  manoeuvred  the  one  quite  forth  from  the 
good  graces  of  the  other.  Now,  all  that  was  to  be 
changed  ;  but  whether  really  in  revenge,  or  because  he 
was  wearying  of  Durrisdeer  and  looked  about  for  some 
diversion,  who  but  the  devil  shall  decide  ? 

From  that  hour  at  least,  began  the  siege  of  Mrs. 
Henry  ;  a  thing  so  deftly  carried  on  that  I  scarce  know 
if  she  was  aware  of  it  herself,  and  tluit  her  husband 
must  look  on  in  silence.  The  firsl  panillol  was  opened 
(as  was  made  to  appear)  by  accident.  The  talk  fell,  as 
it  did  often,  on  the  exiles  in  France  ;  so  it  glided  to  the 
matter  of  their  songs. 


PERSECUTIONS.  119 

''  There  is  one,"  says  the  Master,  ''if  you  are  curious 
in  these  matters,  that  lias  always  seemed  to  me  very 
moving.  The  poetry  is  harsh  ;  and  yet,  jierhaps  be- 
cause of  my  situation,  it  has  always  found  tlie  way  to 
my  heart.  It  is  supposed  to  be  sung,  I  should  tell  you, 
by  an  exile's  sweetheart ;  and  represents,  perhaps,  not 
so  much  the  truth  of  what  she  is  thinking,  as  the  truth 
of  what  he  hopes  of  her,  poor  soul  !  in  these  far  lands." 
And  here  the  Master  sighed.  "■  I  protest  it  is  a  pathetic 
sight  when  a  score  of  rough  Irish,  all  common  senti- 
nels, get  to  this  song ;  and  you  may  see  by  their  fall- 
ing tears,  how  it  strikes  home  to  them.  It  goes  thus, 
father,"  says  he,  very  adroitly  taking  my  lord  for  his 
listener,  '"and  if  I  cannot  get  to  the  end  of  it,  you 
must  think  it  is  a  common  case  with  us  exiles."  And 
thereupon  he  struck  up  the  same  air  as  I  had  heard  the 
Colonel  whistle  ;  but  now  to  words,  rustic  indeed,  yet 
most  pathetically  setting  forth  a  poor  girl's  aspirations 
for  an  exiled  lover  :  of  which  one  verse  indeed  (or  some- 
thing like  it)  still  sticks  by -me  : 

0,  I  will  die  my  petticoat  red. 
With  my  dear  boy  I'll  beg  my  bread, 
Though  all  my  friends  should  wish  me  dead, 
For  Willie  among  the  rushes,  0! 

He  sang  it  well  even  as  a  soug  ;  but  he  did  better  j'et 
as  a  performer.  T  have  heard  famous  actors,  when  there 
was  not  a  dry  eye  in  the  Edinburgh  theatre  ;  a  great 
"wonder  to  behold  ;  but  no  more  wonderful  than  how  the 


120        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAB. 

Master  played  upon  that  little  ballad  and  on  those  who 
heard  him  like  an  instrument,  and  seemed  now  upon  the 
point  of  failing,  and  now  to  conquer  his  distress,  so  that 
words  and  music  seemed  to  pour  out  of  his  own  heart  and 
his  own  past,  and  to  be  aimed  direct  at  i\rrs.  Henry.  And 
his  art  went  further  yet ;  for  all  was  so  delicately  touched, 
it  seemed  impossible  to  suspect  him  of  tlie  least  design  ; 
and  so  far  from  making  a  parade  of  emotion,  you  would 
have  sworn  he  w^as  striving  to  be  calm.  When  it  came 
to  an  end,  we  all  sat  silent  for  a  time  ;  he  had  chosen 
the  dusk  of  the  afternoon,  so  that  none  could  see  his 
neighbour's  face  ;  but  it  seemed  as  if  we  held  our  breath- 
ing, only  my  old  lord  cleared  his  throat.  The  first  to 
move  was  the  singer,  who  got  to  his  feet  suddenly  and 
softly,  and  went  and  walked  softly  to  and  fro  in  the  low 
end  of  the  hall,  Mr.  Henry's  customary  place.  We  were 
to  suppose  that  he  there  struggled  down  the  last  of  his 
emotion  ;  for  he  presently  returned  and  launched  into 
a  disquisition  on  the  nature  of  the  Ii'ish  (always  so  much 
miscalled,  and  whom  he  defended)  in  his  natural  voice; 
so  that,  before  the  lights  were  brought,  we  were  in  the 
usual  course  of  talk.  But  even  then,  methought  Mrs. 
Henry's  face  was  a  shade  pale  ;  and  for  another  thing, 
she  withdrew  almost  at  once. 

The  next  sign  was  a  friendship  this  insidious  devil 
struck  up  with  innocent  Miss  Katharine  ;  so  that  they 
were  always  together,  hand  in  hand,  or  she  climbing  on 
his  knee,  like  a  pair  of  children.     Like  all  his  diabolical 


THE    FIRST    TO    M(JVE    WAS    THE    SINGEK,    WHO    OOT    TO    HIS    FEET 
SUDDENLY  AND  SOFTLY. 


PERSECUTIONS.  121 

acts,  tbis  cut  in  several  ways.  It  was  the  last  stroke  to 
Mr.  Henry,  to  see  his  own  babe  debauched  against  him  ; 
it  made  him  harsh  with  the  poor  innocent,  which 
brought  him  still  a  peg  lower  in  his  wife's  esteem  ;  and 
(to  conclude)  it  was  a  bond  of  union  between  the  lady 
and  the  Master.  Under  this  influence,  their  old  reserve 
melted  by  daily  stages.  Presently  there  came  walks  in 
the  long  shrubbery,  talks  in  the  Belvedere,  and  I  know 
not  Avhat  tender  familiarity.  I  am  sure  Mrs.  Henry  was 
like  many  a  good  woman  ;  she  had  a  wbole  conscience, 
but  perhaps  by  the  means  of  a  little  winking.  For  even 
to  so  dull  an  observer  as  myself,  it  was  plain  her  kind- 
ness was  of  a  more  moving  nature  than  the  sisterly. 
The  tones  of  her  voice  appeared  more  numerous  ;  she 
had  a  light  and  softness  in  her  eye  ;  she  was  more  gentle 
with  all  of  us,  even  with  Mr.  Henry,  even  with  myself  ; 
methought  she  breathed  of  some  quiet  melancholy  hap- 
piness. 

To  look  on  at  this,  what  a  torment  it  was  for  Mr. 
Henry  .'  And  yet  it  brought  our  ultimate  deliverance, 
as  I  am  soon  to  tell. 

The  purport  of  the  Master's  stay  was  no  more  noble 
(gild  it  as  they  might)  than  to  wring  money  out.  He 
had  some  design  of  a  fortune  in  the  French  Indies,  as 
the  Chevalier  wrote  me;  and  it  was  the  sum  required, 
for  this  that  he  came  seeking.  For  the  rest  of  the  fam- 
ily it  spelled  ruin  ;  but  my  lord,  in  his  incredible  par- 


122  THE    MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

iiality,  pushed  ever  for  the  granting.  The  family  was 
now  so  narrowed  down  (indeed  there  were  no  more  of 
them  tlian  just  the  father  and  the  two  sons),  that  it  was 
possible  to  break  the  entail,  and  alienate  a  piece  of  land. 
And  to  this,  at  first  by  hints,  and  then  by  open  j)ressure, 
Mr.  Henry  was  brought  to  consent.  He  never  would 
have  done  so,  I  am  very  well  assured,  but  for  the  weight 
of  the  distress  under  which  he  laboured.  But  for  his 
passionate  eagerness  to  see  his  brother  gone,  he  would 
not  thus  have  broken  v/ith  his  own  sentiment  and  the 
traditions  of  his  house.  And  even  so,  he  sold  them  his 
c'onsent  at  a  dear  rate,  speaking  for  once  openly  and 
holding  the  business  up  in  its  own  shameful  colours. 

"You  will  observe,"  he  said,  "this  is  an  injustice  to 
my  son,  if  ever  I  have  one." 

"But  that  you  are  not  likely  to  have,"  said  my  lord. 

"  God  knows  ! "  says  Mr.  Henry.  "  And  considering 
the  cruel  falseness  of  the  position  in  Avhich  I  stand  to 
my  brother,  and  that  yon,  my  lord,  are  my  father  and 
'have  the  right  to  command  me,  I  set  my  hand  to  this 
paper.  But  one  thing  I  will  say  first :  I  have  been  un- 
generously pushed,  and  when  next,  my  lord,  you  are 
tempted  to  compare  your  sons,  I  call  on  you  to  remem- 
ber what  I  have  done  and  what  he  has  done.  Acts  are 
the  fair  test." 

My  lord  was  the  most  uneasy  man  I  ever  saw  ;  even  in 
his  old  face,  the  blood  came  up.  "I  think  this  is  not  a 
very  wisely  chosen   moment,  Henry,    for   complaints," 


PERSECUTIONS.  123 

Eaid  he.     "  This  takes  away  from  the  merit  of  your  gen- 
erosity." 

"Do  not  deceive  yourself,  my  lord,"  said  Mr.  Henry. 
''This  injustice  is  not  done  from  generosity  to  him,  but 
in  obedience  to  yourself." 

"Before  straugei's  .  .  ."  begins  my  lord,  still 
more  unhappily  affected. 

"There  is  no  one  but  Mackellar  here,"  said  Mr. 
Henry  ;  "he  is  my  friend.  And  my  lord,  as  you  make 
him  no  stranger  to  your  frequent  blame,  it  were  hard  if 
I  must  keep  him  one  to  a  thing  so  rare  as  iny  defence," 

Almost  I  believe  my  lord  would  have  rescinded  his 
decision  ;  but  the  Master  was  on  the  watch. 
'      "Ah,  Henry,  Henry,"  says  he,  "you  are  the  best  of  us 
still.    Eugged  and  true  !  Ah,  man,  I  wish  I  was  as  good." 

And  at  that  instance  of  his  favourite's  generosity,  my 
lord  desisted  from  his  hesitation,  and  the  deed  was 
signed. 

As  soon  as  it  could  be  brought  about,  the  land  of 
Ochterhall  was  sold  for  much  below  its  value,  and  the 
money  paid  over  to  our  leech  and  sent  by  some  private 
carriage  into  France.  Or  so  he  said  ;  though  I  have 
suspected  since  it  did  not  go  so  far.  And  now  here  was 
all  the  man's  business  brought  to  a  successful  head,  and 
his  pockets  once  more  bulging  with  our  gold  ;  and  yet 
the  point  for  which  we  had  consented  to  this  sacrifice 
was  still  denied  us,  and  the  visitor  still  lingered  on  at 
Durrisdeer.     Whether  in  malice,  or  because  the  time 


124  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLANTRAE. 

was  not  yet  come  for  his  adventure  to  the  Indies,  or 
because  he  had  hopes  of  his  design  on  Mrs.  Henry,  or 
from  the  orders  of  the  government,  who  shall  say  ?  but 
linger  he  did  and  that  for  weeks. 

You  will  observe  I  say  :  from  the  orders  of  govern- 
ment ;  for  about  this  time,  the  man's  disreputable 
secret  trickled  out. 

The  first  hint  I  had  was  from  a  tenant,  who  com- 
mented on  the  Master's  stay  and  yet  more  on  his  secur- 
ity ;  for  this  tenant  was  a  Jacobitish  sympathiser,  and 
had  lost  a  son  at  Culloden,  which  gave  him  the  more 
critical  eye.  "  There  is  one  thing,"  said  he,  "  that  I 
cannot  but  think  strange  ;  and  that  is  how  he  got  to 
Cocker  mouth." 

"  To  Cockermouth  ?"  said  I,  with  a  sudden  memory 
of  my  first  wonder  on  beholding  the  man  disembark  so 
point-de-vice  after  so  long  a  voyage. 

*' Why,  yes,"  says  the  tenant,  "it  was  there  he  was 
picked  up  by  Captain  Crail.  You  thought  he  had 
come  from  France  by  sea  ?     And  so  we  all  did." 

I  turned  this  news  a  little  in  my  head,  and  then 
carried  it  to  Mr.  Henry.  "  Here  is  an  odd  circum- 
stance," said  I,  and  told  him. 

"  What  matters  how  he  came,  Mackellar,  so  long  as 
he  is  here,"  groans  Mr.  Henry. 

''No,  sir/*'  said  I,  "but  think  again  !  Does  not  this 
smack  a  little  of  some  government  connivance  ?  You 
know  how  much  we  have  wondered  already  at  the  man's 
security." 


PERSECUTIONS.  125 

*'Stop,"  said  Mr.  Henry.  "Let  me  think  of  this." 
And  as  he  thought,  there  came  that  grim  smile  upon 
bis  face  that  was  a  little  like  the  Master's.  ''  Give  me 
paper,"  said  he.  And  he  sat  without  another  word  and 
wrote  to  a  gentleman  of  his  acquaintance — I  will  name 
no  unnecessary  names,  but  he  was  one  in  a  high  j^lace. 
This  letter  I  despatched  by  the  only  hand  I  could  de- 
pend upon  in  such  a  case,  Macconochie's ;  and  the  old 
man  rode  hard,  for  he  was  back  with  the  reply,  before 
even  my  eagerness  had  ventured  to  expect  him.  Again, 
as  he  read  it,  Mr.  Henry  had  the  same  grim  smile. 

"This  is  the  best  you  have  done  for  me  yet,  Mac- 
kellar,''  says  he.  "With  this  in  my  hand,  I  will  give 
him  a  shog.     Watch  for  us  at  dinner."' 

At  dinner  accordingly,  Mr.  Henry  proposed  some 
very  public  appearance  for  the  Master  ;  and  my  lord,  as 
be  had  hoped,  objected  to  the  danger  of  the  course. 

"0,"  says  Mr.  Henry,  very  easily,  "you  need  no 
longer  keep  this  up  with  me.  I  am  as  much  in  the 
secret  as  yourself." 

''In  the  secret?"  says  my  lord.  "What  do  you 
mean,  Henry  ?  I  give  you  my  woi'd  I  am  in  no  secret 
from  which  you  are  excluded." 

The  Master  had  changed  countenance,  and  I  saw  he 
was  struck  in  a  joint  of  his  harness. 

"How?"  says  Mr.  Henry,  turning  to  him  with  a 
huge  appearance  of  surprise.  "I  see  you  serve  your 
masters  very  faithfully ;  but  I  had  thought  you  would 


126  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

have  been  humane  enough  to  set  your  father's  mind  at 
rest." 

"  "What  are  you  talking  of  ?  I  refuse  to  liave  my 
business  publicly  discussed.  I  order  this  to  cease,"  cries 
tlie  Master  very  foolishly  and  passionately,  and  indeed 
more  like  a  child  than  a  man. 

*'So  much  discretion  was  not  looked  for  at  your 
bands,  I  can  assure  you,"  continued  Mr.  Henry.  "  For 
see  what  my  corrosjoondent  writes" — unfolding  the 
paper — "  '  It  is,  of  course,  in  the  interests  both  of  the 
government  and  the  gentleman  whom  we  may  per- 
haps best  continue  to  call  Mr.  Bally,  to  keep  this  under- 
standing secret ;  but  it  was  never  meant  his  own  family 
should  continue  to  endure  the  sns2)ense  you  paint  so 
feelingly  ;  and  I  am  pleased  mine  should  be  the  hand  to 
set  these  fears  at  rest.  Mr.  Bally  is  as  safe  in  Great 
Britain  as  yourself.'" 

*'Is  this  possible?"  cries  my  lord,  looking  at  his 
son,  with  a  great  deal  of  wonder  and  still  more  of  suspi- 
cion in  his  face. 

"  My  dear  father,"  says  the  Master,  already  much  re- 
covered, "I  am  overjoyed  that  this  may  be  disclosed. 
My  own  instructions  direct  from  London  bore  a  very 
contrary  sense,  and  I  was  charged  to  keep  the  indul- 
gence secret  from  everyone,  youi-self  not  excei3ted,  and 
indeed  yourself  expressly  named — as  I  can  show  in  black 
and  white,  unless  I  have  destroyed  the  letter.  They 
must  have  changed   their   mind    very  swiftly,   for   the 


PERSECUTIONS.  127 

whole  matter  is  still  quite  fresh ;  or  rather  Henry's  cor- 
respondent must  have  misconceived  that  part,  as  he 
seems  to  have  misconceived  the  rest.  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  sir,"  he  continued,  getting  visibly  more  easy,  "I 
had  supposed  this  unexplained  favour  to  a  rebel  was  the 
effect  of  some  application  from  yourself  ;  and  the  in- 
junction to  secrecy  among  my  family  the  result  of  a 
desire  on  your  part  to  conceal  your  kindness.  Hence  I 
was  the  more  careful  to  obey  orders.  It  remains  now  to 
guess  by  what  other  channel  indulgence  can  have  flowed 
on  so  notorious  an  offender  as  myself;  for  I  do  not 
think  your  son  need  defend  himself  from  what  seems 
hinted  at  in  Henry's  letter.  I  have  never  yet  heard  of  a 
Durrisdeer  who  was  a  turncoat  or  a  spy,"  says  he, 
proudly. 

And  so  it  seemed  he  had  swum  out  of  this  danger  un- 
harmed ;  but  this  was  to  reckon  without  a  blunder  he 
had  made,  and  without  the  pertinacity  of  Mr.  Henry, 
who  was  now  to  show  he  had  something  of  his  brother's 
spirit. 

"  You  say  the  matter  is  still  fresh,"  says  Mr.  Henry. 

"It  is  recent,"  says  the  Master,  with  a  fair  show  of 
stoutness  and  yet  not  without  a  quaver. 

"  Is  it  so  recent  as  that  ?  "  asks  Mr.  Henry,  like  a  man 
a  little  puzzled,  and  spreading  his  letter  forth  again. 

In  all  the  letter  there  was  no  word  as  to  the  date  ;  but 
how  was  the  Master  to  know  that  ? 

'^  It  seemed  to  come  late  enough  for  me,"  says  he. 


128  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

with  a  laugh.  And  at  the  sound  of  that  laugh,  which 
rang  false  lite  a  cracked  bell,  my  lord  looked  at  him 
again  across  the  table,  and  I  saw  his  old  ]ips  draw  to- 
gether close. 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Henry,  still  glancing  on  his  letter, 
"  but  I  remember  your  expression.  You  said  it  was  very 
fresh." 

And  here  we  had  a  proof  of  our  victory,  and  the 
strongest  instance  yet  of  my  lord's  incredible  indul- 
gence ;  for  what  must  he  do  but  interfere  to  save  his 
favourite  from  esj^osure  ! 

"I  think,  Henry,"  says  he,  with  a  kind  of  pitiful 
eagerness,  "I  think  we  need  dispute  no  more.  We  are 
all  rejoiced  at  last  to  find  your  brother  safe ;  we  are  all 
at  one  on  that ;  and  as  grateful  subjects,  we  can  do  no 
less  than  drink  to  the  king's  health  and  bounty." 

Thus  was  the  Master  extricated  ;  but  at  least  he  had 
been  put  to  his  defence,  he  had  come  lamely  out,  and 
the  attraction  of  his  jjersonal  danger  was  now  publicly 
plucked  away  from  him.  My  lord,  in  his  heart  of  hearts, 
now  knew  his  favourite  to  bo  a  government  spy;  and 
Mrs.  Henry  (however  she  explained  the  tale)  was  notably 
cold  in  her  behaviour  to  the  discredited  hero  of  romance. 
Thus  in  the  best  fabric  of  duplicity,  there  is  some  weak 
point,  if  you  can  strike  it,  which  wnll  loosen  all ;  and  if,  by 
this  fortunate  stroke,  we  had  not  shaken  the  idol,  who  can 
cay  how  it  might  have  gone  with  us  at  the  catastrophe  ? 

And  yet  at  the  time  we  seemed  to  have  accomplished 


PERSECUTIONS.  129 

nothing.  Before  a  day  or  two  he  had  wiped  off  the  ill- 
results  of  his  discomfiture,  and  to  all  appearance,  stood 
as  high  as  ever.  As  for  my  Lord  Durrisdeer,  he  was 
sunk  in  parental  partiality  ;  it  was  not  so  much  love, 
which  should  be  an  active  quality,  as  an  apathy  and 
torpor  of  his  other  powers  ;  and  forgiveness  (so  to  mis- 
apply a  noble  word)  flowed  from  him  in  sheer  weakness, 
like  the  tears  of  senility.  Mrs.  Heni-y's  was  a  different 
case ;  and  heaven  alone  knows  what  he  found  to  say  to 
her  or  how  he  persuaded  her  from  her  contenq^t.  It  is 
one  of  the  worst  things  of  sentiment,  that  the  voice 
grows  to  be  more  important  than  the  words,  and  the 
speaker  than  that  which  is  spoken.  But  some  excuse 
the  Master  must  have  found,  or  perhaps  he  had  even 
struck  upon  some  art  to  wrest  this  exposure  to  his  own 
advantage  ;  for  after  a  time  of  coldness,  it  seemed  as  if 
things  went  worse  than  ever  between  him  and  Mrs. 
Henry.  They  were  then  constantly  together.  I  would 
not  be  thought  to  cast  one  shadow  of  blame,  beyond 
what  is  due  to  a  half-wilful  blindness,  on  that  unfortu- 
nate lady ;  but  I  do  think,  in  these  last  days,  she  was 
playing  very  near  the  fire  ;  and  whether  I  be  wrong  or 
not  in  that,  one  thing  is  sure  and  quite  sufficient :  Mr. 
Henry  thought  so.  The  poor  gentleman  sat  for  days  in 
my  room,  so  great  a  picture  of  distress  that  I  could 
never  venture  to  address  him  ;  yet  it  is  to  be  thought  he 
found  some  comfort  even  in  my  presence  and  the  know- 
ledge of  my  sympathy.  There  were  times,  too,  when  we 
9 


ISO  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

talked,  and  a  strange  manner  of  talk  it  was ;  there  was 
never  a  person  named,  nor  an  individual  circumstance 
referred  to ;  yet  we  had  the  same  matter  in  our  minds, 
and  we  were  each  aware  of  it.  It  is  a  strange  art  that 
can  thus  ho  practised :  to  talk  for  hours  of  a  thing,  and 
never  name  nor  yet  so  much  as  hint  at  it.  And  I  re- 
memher  I  wondered  if  it  was  by  some  such  natural  skill 
that  the  Master  made  love  to  Mrs.  Henry  all  day  long 
(as  he  manifestly  did),  yet  never  startled  her  into 
reserve. 

To  show  how  far  affairs  had  gone  with  Mr.  llonry,  I 
will  give  some  words  of  his,  uttered  (as  I  have  cause  not 
to  forget)  upon  the  26Lh  of  February,  1757.  It  was 
unseasonable  weather,  a  cast  back  into  "Winter  :  wind- 
less, bitter  cold,  the  world  all  white  with  rime,  the  sky 
low  and  gray  ;  the  sea  black  and  silent  like  a  quarry 
hole.  Mr.  Henry  sat  close  by  the  lire  and  debated  (as 
was  now  common  with  him)  whether  "a  man"  should 
''do  things,"  whether  "interference  was  wise,"  and 
the  like  general  propositions,  which  eacli  of  us  par- 
ticularly applied.  I  was  by  the  window  looking  out, 
when  there  passed  below  me  the  Master,  Mrs.  Henry 
and  Miss  Katharine,  that  now  constant  trio.  The 
child  was  running  to  and  fro  delighted  with  the  frost ; 
the  Master  spoke  close  in  the  lady's  ear  with  what 
seemed  (even  from  so  far)  a  devilish  grace  of  insinua- 
tion ;  and  she  on  her  part  looked  on  the  ground  like  a 
person  lost  in  listening.     I  broke  out  of  my  reserve. 


PEESECUTIOISrS.  131 

"If  I  were  you,  Mr.  Henry,"  said  I,  "  I  would  deal 
openly  with  my  lord." 

"Mackellar,  Mackellar,"  said  ho,  "you  do  not  see  the 
weakness  of  my  ground.  I  can  carry  no  such  base 
thoughts  to  any  one  :  to  my  father  least  of  all ;  that 
would  be  to  fall  into  the  bottom  of  his  scorn.  The 
weakness  of  my  ground,"  he  continued,  "lies  in  myself, 
that  I  am  not  one  who  engages  love.  I  have  their  grat- 
itude, they  all  tell  me  that  :  I  have  a  rich  estate  of  it ! 
But  I  am  not  present  in  their  minds  ;  they  are  moved 
neither  to  think  with  me  nor  to  think  for  me.  There  is 
ray  loss  !"  He  got  to  his  feet,  and  trod  down  the  fire. 
"But  some  method  must  be  found,  Mackellar,"  said  he, 
looking  at  me  suddenly  over  his  shoulder;  "some  way 
must  be  found.  I  am  a  man  of  a  great  deal  of  patience 
— far  too  much — far  too  much.  I  begin  to  despise  my- 
self. And  yet  sure  never  was  a  man  involved  in  such  a 
toil  ! "     He  fell  back  to  his  brooding. 

"  Cheer  up,"  said  I.     " It  will  burst  of  itself." 

"  I  am  far  past  anger  now,"  says  he,  which  had  so 
little  coherency  with  my  own  observation,  that  I  let 
both  fall. 


ACCOUNT   OF    ALL    THAT    PASSED    ON    THE 
NIGHT   OF  FEBRUARY  27TH,   1757. 

Ox  the  eyening  of  the  interview  referred  to,  the  Mas- 
ter went  abroad  ;  he  was  abroad  a  great  deal  of  the  next 
day  also,  that  fatal  27th  ;  but  where  he  went  or  what 
he  did,  we  never  concerned  ourselves  to  ask  until  next 
day.  If  we  had  done  so,  and  by  any  chance  found  out, 
it  might  have  changed  all.  But  as  all  we  did  was  done 
in  ignorance,  and  should  be  so  judged,  I  shall  so  narrate 
these  passages  as  they  appeared  to  us  in  the  moment  of 
their  birth,  and  reserve  all  that  I  since  discovered  for 
the  time  of  its  discovery.  For  I  have  now  come  to  one 
of  the  dark  parts  of  my  narrative,  and  must  engage  the 
reader's  indulgence  for  my  patron. 

All  the  27th,  that  rigorous  weather  endured  :  a  stifling 
cold ;  the  folk  passing  about  like  smoking  chimneys ; 
the  wide  hearth  in  the  hall  piled  high  with  fuel  ;  some 
of  the  s^jring  birds  that  had  ali'eady  blundered  north 
into  our  neighbourhood,  besieging  the  windows  of  the 
house  or  trotting  on  the  frozen  turf  like  things  dis- 
tracted. About  noon  there  came  a  blink  of  sunshine  ; 
showing  a  very  pretty,  wintry,  frosty  landscape  of  white 
hills  and  woods,  with  Crail's  lugger  waiting  for  a  wind 


THE   NIGHT   OF   FEBRUARY   27TH.  133 

under  the  Craig  Head,  and  the  smoke  mounting  straight 
into  the  air  from  every  farm  and  cottage.  With  the 
coming  of  night,  the  haze  closed  in  overhead  ;  it  fell 
dark  and  still  and  starless  and  exceeding  cold  :  a  night 
the  most  unseasonable,  fit  for  strange  events. 

Mrs.  Henry  withdrew,  as  was  now  her  custom,  very 
early.  We  had  set  ourselves  of  late  to  pass  the  evening 
with  a  game  of  cards  ;  another  mark  that  our  visitor 
was  wearying  mightily  of  the  life  at  Durrisdeer  ;  and 
we  had  not  been  long  at  this,  when  my  old  lord  slipped 
from  his  place  beside  the  fire,  and  was  off  without  a 
word  to  seek  the  warmth  of  bed.  The  three  thus  left 
together  had  neither  love  nor  courtesy  to  share  ;  not  one 
of  us  would  have  sat  up  one  instant  to  oblige  another  ; 
yet  from  the  influence  of  custom  and  as  the  cards  had 
just  been  dealt,  we  continued  the  form  of  playing  out 
the  round.  I  should  say  we  were  late  sitters ;  and 
though  my  lord  had  departed  earlier  than  was  his  cus- 
tom, twelve  was  already  gone  some  time  upon  the  clock, 
and  the  servants  long  ago  in  bed.  Another  thing  I 
should  say,  that  although  I  never  saw  the  Master  any- 
way effected  with  liquor,  he  had  been  drinking  freely 
and  was  perhaps  (although  he  showed  it  not)  a  trifle 
heated. 

Anyway,  he  now  practised  one  of  his  transitions  ;  and 
so  soon  as  the  door  closed  behind  my  lord,  and  without 
the  smallest  change  of  voice,  shifted  from  ordinary  civil 
talk  into  a  stream  of  insult. 


134        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

"  Mj  dear  Henry,  it  is  yours  to  play,"  he  had  been 
saying,  and  now  continued  :  "It  is  a  very  strange  thing 
how,  even  in  so  small  a  matter  as  a  game  of  cards,  you 
display  your  rusticity.  You  play,  Jacob,  like  a  bonnet 
laird,  or  a  sailor  in  a  tavern.  The  same  dulness,  the 
same  petty  greed,  cette  lenfeur  cVJiebctc  qui  me  fait  rager; 
it  is  strange  I  should  have  such  a  brother.  Even 
Squaretoes  has  a  certain  vivacity  when  his  stake  is  im- 
perilled ;  but  the  dreariness  of  a  game  with  you,  I  posi- 
tively lack  language  to  depict." 

Mr.  Henry  continued  to  look  at  his  cards,  as  though 
very  maturely  considering  some  play ;  but  his  mind  was 
elsewhere. 

"  Dear  God,  will  this  never  be  done  ?"  cries  the  Mas- 
ter. "Quel  lourdeau  !  But  why  do  I  trouble  you  with 
French  expressions,  which  arc  lost  on  such  an  ignora- 
mus ?  A  lourdeau,  my  dear  brother,  is  as  we  might  say 
a  bumpkin,  a  clown,  a  clodpole  :  a  fellow  without  grace, 
lightness,  quickness  ;  any  gift  of  j^leasing,  any  natural 
brilliancy  :  such  a  one  as  you  shall  see,  when  you  desire, 
by  looking  in  the  mirror.  I  tell  j'ou  these  things  for 
your  good  I  assure  you  ;  and  besides,  Squaretoes,"  (Jook- 
ing  at  me  and  stifling  a  yawn)  *'  it  is  one  of  my  diver- 
sions in  this  very  dreary  spot,  to  toast  you  and  your  mas- 
ter at  the  tire  like  clicstnuts.  I  have  great  pleasure  in 
your  case  for  I  observe  the  nickname  (rustic  as  it  is)  has 
always  the  power  to  make  you  writhe.  But  sometimes  I 
have  niore  trouble  with  this  dear  fellow  here,  who  seems 


THE   NIGHT   OF   FEBRUARY  27TH.  135 

to  liave  gone  to  sleep  upon  his  cards.  Do  yon  not  sec 
the  applicability  of  the  epithet  I  have  just  explained, 
dear  Henry  ?  Let  me  show  you.  For  instance,  with  all 
those  solid  qualities  which  I  delight  to  recognize  in  you, 
I  never  knew  a  woman  who  did  not  prefer  me — nor,  I 
think,"  he  continued,  with  the  most  silken  deliberation, 
"  I  thnik — who  did  not  continue  to  prefer  me." 

Mr.  Henry  laid  down  his  cards.  He  rose  to  his  feet 
very  softly,  and  seemed  all  the  while  like  a  person  in 
deep  thought.  '^  You  coward  ! "'  he  said  gently,  as  if  to 
himself.  And  then,  with  neither  hurry  nor  any  par- 
ticular violence,  he  struck  the  Master  in  the  mouth. 

The  Master  sprang  to  his  feet  like  one  transfigured  ; 
I  had  never  seen  the  man  so  beautiful.  "  A  blow  !"  he 
cried.     ''I  would  not  take  a  blow  from  God  Almighty."' 

"  Lower  your  voice,"  said  Mr.  Henry.  "  Do  you  wish 
my  father  to  interfere  for  you  again  ?" 

"  Gentlemen,  gentlemen,"  I  cried,  and  sought  to  come 
between  them. 

The  Master  caught  me  by  the  shoulder,  held  me  at 
arm's  length,  and  still  addressing  his  brother  :  "  Do 
you  know  what  this  means  ?"  said  he. 

"  It  was  the  most  deliberate  act  of  my  life,"  says  Mr. 
Henry. 

"I  mnst  have  blood,  I  must  have  blood  for  this,"  says 
the  Master. 

"  Please  God  it  shall  be  yours,"  said  Mr.  Henry  ;  and 
he  went  to  the  wall  and  took  down  a  pair  of  swords  that 


136        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

hung  tlierc  witli  others,  naked.  These  he  presented  to 
the  Master  by  the  points.  "  Mackellar  shall  see  us  play 
fair,"  said  Mr.  Henry.     ''  I  think  it  very  needful." 

''You  need  insult  nie  no  more,"  said  the  Master,  tak- 
ing one  of  the  swords  at  random.  "  I  have  hated  you 
all  my  life." 

*'My  father  is  but  newly  gone  to  bed,"  said  Mr. 
Henry.     "  AVe  must  go  somewhere  forth  of  the  house." 

*'  There  is  an  excellent  place  in  the  long  shrubbery," 
said  the  j\I aster. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  I,  "  shame  upon  you  both  !  Sons 
of  the  same  mother,  would  you  turn  against  the  life  she 
gave  you  ?  " 

"  Even  so,  Mackellar,"  said  Mr.  Henry,  with  the  same 
perfect  quietude  of  manner  he  had  shown  throughout. 

"  It  is  what  I  will  prevent,"  said  I. 

And  now  here  is  a  blot  upon  my  life.  At  these 
words  of  mine,  the  Master  turned  his  blade  against  my 
bosom  ;  1  saw  the  light  run  along  the  steel  ;  and  I 
threw  up  my  arms  and  fell  to  my  knees  before  him  on 
the  floor.     "  No,  no,"  I  cried,  like  a  baby. 

*'  We  shall  have  no  more  trouble  with  him,"  said  the 
Master.  "  It  is  a  good  thing  to  have  a  coward  in  the 
house." 

"We  must  have  liglit,"  said  Mr.  Henry,  as  though 
there  had  been  no  interruption. 

"This  trembler  can  bring  a  pair  of  candles,"  said  the 
Master. 


THE  NIGHT  OF   FEBRUARY   27TH.  137 

To  my  shame  be  it  said,  I  was  still  so  blinded  with 
the  flashing  of  that  bare  sword,  that  I  volunteered  to 
bring  a  lantern. 

''  We  do  not  need  a  1-1-lantern,"  says  the  Master, 
mocking  me.  "  There  is  no  breath  of  air.  Come,  get 
to  your  feet,  take  a  pair  of  lights,  and  go  before.  I  am 
close  behind  Avith  this — "  making  the  blade  glitter  as  he 
spoke. 

I  took  up  the  candlesticks  and  went  before  them, 
steps  that  I  would  give  my  hand  to  recall ;  but  a  coward 
is  a  slave  at  the  best ;  and  even  as  I  went,  my  teeth 
smote  each  other  in  my  mouth.  It  was  as  he  had  said, 
there  was  no  breath  stirring  :  a  windless  stricture  of 
frost  had  bound  the  air  ;  and  as  we  went  forth  in  the 
shine  of  the  candles,  the  blackness  was  like  a  roof  over 
oar  lieads.  Never  a  word  was  said,  there  was  never  a 
sound  but  the  creaking  of  our  steps  along  the  frozen 
path.  The  cold  of  the  night  fell  about  me  like  a  bucket 
of  water ;  I  shook  as  I  went  with  more  than  terror  ;  but 
my  companions  bare-headed  like  myself  and  fresh  from 
the  warm  hall,  appeared  not  even  conscious  of  the 
change. 

"Here  is  the  place,"  said  the  Master.  "Set  down 
the  candles." 

I  did  as  he  bid  me,  and  presently  the  flames  went 
up  as  steady  as  in  a  chamber  in  the  midst  of  the 
frosted  trees,  and  I  beheld  these  two  brothers  take  their 
places. 


138  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

''  The  light  is  something  in  my  eyes,"  said  the 
Master. 

"I  will  give  you  every  arlvantage,"  replied  Mi\  Henry, 
shifting  his  ground,  "for  I  think  you  are  about  to  die." 
He  spoke  rather  sadly  than  otherwise,  yet  there  was  a 
ring  in  his  voice. 

"  Henry  Durie,"  said  the  Master,  *'two  words  before 
I  begin.  You  are  a  fencer,  you  can  hold  a  foil ;  you 
little  know  what  a  change  it  makes  to  hold  a  sword  ! 
And  by  that  I  know  you  are  to  fall.  But  see  how 
strong  is  my  situation  !  If  you  fall,  I  shift  out  of  this 
country  to  where  my  money  is  before  me.  If  I  fall, 
where  are  you  ?  My  father,  your  wife  who  is  in  love 
with  me — as  yon  very  well  know — your  child  even  who 
prefers  me  to  yourself  : — how  will  these  avenge  me  ! 
Had  you  thought  of  that,  dear  Henry  ?"  He  looked  at 
his  brother  with  a  smile ;  then  made  a  fencing-room 
salute. 

Never  a  word  said  Mr.  Henry,  but  salutetl  too,  and 
the  swords  rang  together. 

I  am  no  judge  of  the  play,  my  head  besides  was  gone 
with  cold  and  fear  and  horror ;  but  it  seems  that  Mr. 
Henry  took  and  kept  the  upper  hand  from  the  engage- 
ment, crowding  in  upon  his  foe  with  a  contained  and 
glowing  fury.  Nearer  and  nearer  he  crept  upon  the  man 
till,  of  a  sudden,  the  Master  leaped  back  with  a  little 
sobbing  oath  ;  and  I  believe  the  movement  brought  the 
light  once  more  against  his  eyes.    To  it  they  went  again. 


THE   NIGHT   OF   FEBRUARY   27TH.  139 

on  the  fresh  ground  ;  but  now  methought  closer,  Mr. 
Henry  pressing  more  outrageous!}',  the  Master  beyond 
doubt  with  shaken  confidence.  For  it  is  beyond  doubt 
he  now  recognized  himself  for  lost,  and  had  some  taste 
of  the  cold  agony  of  fear ;  or  he  had  never  attempted 
the  foul  stroke.  I  cannot  say  I  followed  it,  my  un- 
trained eye  was  never  quick  enough  to  seize  details,  but 
it  appears  he  caught  his  brother's  blade  with  his  left 
hand,  a  practice  not  permitted.  Certainly  Mr.  Henry 
only  saved  himself  by  leaping  on  one  side  ;  as  certainly 
the  Master,  lunging  in  the  air,  stumbled  on  his  knee,  and 
before  he  could  move,  the  sword  was  through  his  body. 

I  cried  out  with  a  stifled  scream,  and  ran  in  ;  but  the 
body  was  already  fallen  to  the  ground,  where  it  writhed  a 
moment  like  a  trodden  worm,  and  then  lay  motionless. 

''Look  at  his  left  hand,"  said  Mr.  Henry. 

"It  is  all  bloody,-'  said  I. 

"  On  the  inside  ?  "  said  he. 

"It  la  cut  on  the  inside,"  said  I. 

"I  thought  "so,"  said  he,  and  turned  his  back. 

I  opened  the  man's  clothes ;  the  heart  was  quite  still, 
it  gave  not  a  flutter. 

"  God  forgive  us,  Mr.  Henry  ! "  said  I.    "  He  is  dead." 

"Dead?"  he  repeated,  a  little  stupidly;  and  then 
with  a  rising  tone,  "  Dead  ?  dead  ?  "  says  he,  and  sud- 
denly cast  his  bloody  sword  upon  the  ground. 

"What  must  we  do?"  said  I.  "Be  yourself,  sir. 
It  is  too  late  now  :  you  must  be  yourself.'* 


140  THE    MASTER   OF   BALLAXTRAE. 

He  turned  and  stared  at  me.  "  0,  Mackellar  !  "  says 
he,  and  put  bis  face  in  liis  hands. 

I  plucked  him  by  the  coat.  "  For  God's  sake,  for  all 
our  sakes,  be  more  courageous  ! "'  said  I.  "  What  must 
we  do  ?  " 

He  showed  me  his  face  with  the  same  stupid  stare. 
*'  Do  ? "  says  he.  And  with  that  his  eye  fell  on  the 
body,  and  ''*  0  ! "  he  cries  out,  with  his  hand  to  his 
brow,  as  if  he  had  never  remembered ;  and  turning 
from  me,  made  off  towards  the  liouse  of  Durrisdeer  at  a 
strange  stumbling  run. 

I  stood  a  moment  mused  ;  then  it  seemed  to  me  my 
duty  lay  most  plain  on  the  side  of  the  living ;  and  I 
Tdn  after  him,  leaving  the  candles  on  the  frosty  ground 
and  the  body  lying  in  their  light  under  the  trees. 
But  run  as  I  pleased,  he  had  the  start  of  me,  and 
was  got  into  the  house,  and  up  to  the  hall,  where  I 
found  him  standing  before  the  fire  with  his  face  once 
more  in  his  hands,  and  as  he  so  stood,  he  visibly  shud- 
dered. 

*'Mr.  Henry,  Mr.  Henry,"  I  said,  "^  this  will  be  the 
ruin  of  us  all."' 

''  What  is  this  that  I  have  done  ?  "  cries  he,  and  then, 
looking  upon  me  with  a  countenance  that  I  shall  never 
forget,  "  Who  is  to  tell  the  old  man  ?  "  he  said. 

The  word  knocked  at  my  heart ;  but  it  was  no  time 
for  weakness.  I  went  and  poured  him  out  a  glass  of 
brandy.     "Drink  that,"  said  I,   "drink  it  down."     I 


THE   NIGHT   OF   FEBRUARY   37TH.  141 

forced  him  to  swallow  it  like  a  cliild  ;  and,  being  still 
perished  with  the  cold  of  the  night,  I  followed  his 
exanijde. 

''It  has  to  be  told,  Mackellar,"  said  he.  "It  must 
be  told."  And  he  fell  suddenly  in  a  seat — my  old  lord's 
seat  by  the  cliimney  side — and  was  shaken  with  dry 
sobs. 

Dismay  came  upon  my  soul ;  it  was  plain  there  was 
no  help  in  Mr.  Henry.  "Well,"  said  I,  "sit  there,  and 
leave  all  to  me."  And  taking  a  candle  in  my  hand,  I 
set  forth  out  of  the  room  in  the  dark  house.  There 
was  no  movement ;  I  must  suppose  that  all  had  gone 
unobserved  ;  and  I  was  now  to  consider  how  to  smuggle 
through  the  rest  with  the  like  secrecy.  It  was  no  hour 
for  scruples  ;  and  I  opened  my  lady's  door  without  so 
much  as  a  knock,  and  passed  boldly  in. 

"There  is  some  calamity  happened,"  she  cried,  sit- 
ting up  in  bed. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  I  will  go  forth  again  into  the 
passage  ;  and  do  you  get  as  quickly  as  you  can  into  your 
clothes.     There  is  much  to  be  done." 

She  troubled  me  with  no  questions,  nor  did  she  keep 
me  waiting.  Ere  I  had  time  to  prepare  a  word  of  that 
which  I  must  say  to  her,  she  was  on  the  threshold  sign- 
ing me  to  enter. 

"Madam,"  said  I,  "if  you  cannot  be  very  brave,  I 
must  go  elsewhere ;  for  if  no  one  helps  me  to-night, 
there  is  an  end  of  the  house  of  Durrisdeer." 


142  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

"  I  am  very  courageous,"  said  she;  and  she  looked  at 
me  with  a  sort  of  smile,  very  painful  to  see,  but  very 
brave  too. 

"  It  has  come  to  a  duel,"  said  I. 

"  A  duel  ?  "  she  repeated.   ^'  A  duel !    Henry  and '' 

"And  the  Master,"  said  I.  "Things  have  been 
borne  so  long,  things  of  which  you  know  nothing, 
which  you  would  not  believe  if  I  should  tell.  But  to- 
night it  went  too  far,  and  when  he  insulted  you " 

"  Stop,"  said  she.     "  He  ?    Who  ?  " 

"  0  madam  ! "  cried  I,  my  bitterness  breaking  forth, 
"do  you  ask  me  such  a  question ?  Indeed,  then,  I  may 
go  elsewhere  for  help  ;  there  is  none  here  !  " 

"I  do  not  know  in  what  I  have  offended  you,"  said 
she.     "  Forgive  me  ;  put  me  out  of  this  suspense." 

But  I  dared  not  tell  her  yet ;  I  felt  not  sure  of  her  ; 
and  at  the  doubt  and  under  the  sense  of  impotence  it 
brought  with  it,  I  turned  on  the  poor  woman  with  some- 
thing near  to  anger. 

"Madam,"  said  I,  "we  are  speaking  of  two  men  : 
one  of  tliem  insulted  you,  and  you  ask  me  which.  I 
will  help  you  to  the  answer.  With  one  of  these  men 
you  have  spent  all  your  hours  :  has  the  other  reproached 
you  ?  To  one,  you  have  been  always  kind  ;  to  the 
other,  as  God  sees  me  and  judges  between  us  two, 
I  tliink  not  always  :  has  his  love  ever  failed  you  ? 
To-night  one  of  these  two  men  told  the  other,  in  my 
hearing, — the  hearing  of  a  hired  stranger, — that  you 


THE   NIGHT   OF   FEBRUARY   27TH.  143 

were  in  love  with  him.  Before  I  say  one  word,  you 
shall  answer  your  own  question  :  Which  was  it  ?  Nay, 
madam,  you  shall  answer  me  another  :  If  it  has  come 
to  this  dreadful  end,  whose  fault  is  it?" 

She  stared  at  me  like  one  dazzled.  "Good  God  !" 
she  said  once,  in  a  kind  of  bursting  exclamation  ;  and 
then  a  second  time,  in  a  whisper  to  herself,  ''  Great 
God  ! — In  the  name  of  mercy,  Mackellar,  what  is 
wrong  ?  "  she  cried.     '^  I  am  made  up  ;  I  can  hear  all." 

"You  are  not  fit  to  hear,"  said  I.  "Whatever  it 
was,  you  shall  say  first  it  was  your  fault." 

"  Oh  ! "  she  cried,  with  a  gesture  of  wringing  her 
hands,  "this  man  will  drive  me  mad  !  Can  you  not 
put  me  out  of  your  thoughts  ?  " 

"I  think  not  once  of  you,"  I  cried.  "I  think  of 
none  but  my  dear  unhappy  master." 

"  Ah  ! "  she  cried,  with  her  hand  to  her  heart,  "  is 
Henry  dead  ?  " 

"  Lower  your  voice,"  said  I.     "  The  other." 

I  saw  her  sway  like  something  stricken  by  the  wind  ; 
and  I  know  not  whether  in  cowardice  or  misery,  turned 
aside  and  looked  upon  the  floor.  "These  are  dreadful 
tidings,"  said  I  at  length,  when  her  silence  began  to  put 
me  in  some  fear;  "and  you  and  I  behove  to  be  the 
more  bold  if  the  house  is  to  be  saved."  Still  she 
answered  nothing.  "  There  is  Miss  Katharine  besides," 
I  added  :  "unless  we  bring  this  matter  through,  her 
inheritance  is  like  to  be  of  shame." 


144  THE    MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

I  do  not  kuow  if  it  was  the  thought  of  her  child  or 
the  naked  word  shame,  that  gave  her  deliverance  ;  at 
least  I  had  no  sooner  spoken  than  a  sound  passed  her 
lips,  the  like  of  it  I  never  heard  ;  it  was  as  though  she 
had  lain  buried  under  a  hill  and  sought  to  move  that 
burthen.  And  the  next  moment  she  had  found  a  sort 
of  voice. 

"  It  was  a  fight,"  she  whispered.     "  It  was  not ?  " 

and  she  paused  upon  the  word. 

"  It  was  a  fair  fight  on  my  dear  master's  part,"  said  I. 
"  As  for  the  other,  he  was  slain  in  the  very  act  of  a  foul 
stroke." 

"Not  now  !  "  she  cried. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  "  hatred  of  that  man  glows  in  my 
bosom  like  a  burning  fire;  ay,  even  now  he  is  dead. 
God  knows,  I  w^ould  have  stopped  the  fighting,  had  I 
dared.  It  is  my  shame  I  did  not.  But  when  I  saw  him 
fall,  if  I  could  have  spared  one  thought  from  pitying  of 
my  master,  it  had  been  to  exult  in  that  deliverance." 

I  do  not  know  if  she  marked  ;  but  her  next  words 
were  :  "  My  lord  ?  " 

"  That  shall  be  my  part,"  said  I. 

"  You  will  not  speak  to  him  as  you  have  to  me  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"Madam,"  said  I,  "have  you  not  someone  else  to 
think  of  ?     Leave  my  lord  to  me." 

"  Someone  else  ?  "  she  repeated. 

"Your  husband,"  said  I.     She  looked  at  me  with  a 


THE   NIGHT   OF   FEBRUARY   27TH.  145 

countenance  illegible.  ''Are  you  going  to  turn  your 
back  on  him  ?  "  I  asked. 

Still  she  looked  at  me  ;  then  her  hand  went  to  her 
heart  again,     "  N'o,"  said  she. 

"God  bless  you  for  that  word  !"  I  said,  ''Go  to 
him  now  wliere  he  sits  in  the  hall ;  speak  to  him — it 
matters  not  what  you  say ;  give  him  your  hand  ;  say, 
'  I  know  all  ; ' — if  God  gives  you  grace  enough,  say, 
'Forgive  me.' " 

"  God  strengthen  you,  and  nuike  you  merciful,"  said 
she.      "  I  will  go  to  my  husband." 

"  Let  me  light  you  there,"  said  I,  taking  up  the 
candle. 

"I  will  find  my  way  in  the  dark,"  she  said,  with  a 
shudder,  and  I  think  the  shudder  was  at  me. 

So  we  separated,  she  downstairs  to  where  a  little 
light  glimmered  in  the  hall-door,  I  along  the  passage  to 
my  lord's  room.  It  seems  hard  to  say  why,  but  I  could 
not  burst  in  on  the  old  man  as  I  could  on  the  young 
woman;  with  whatever  reluctance,  I  must  knock.  But 
his  old  slumbers  were  light,  or  perhaps  he  slept  not ; 
and  at  the  first  summons  I  was  bidden  enter. 

He  too  sat  up  in  bed  ;   very  aged  and  bloodless  he 

looked ;    and  whereas  he  had  a  certain  largeness   of 

appearance  when  dressed  for  daylight,  he  now  seemed 

frail  and  little,  and  his  face  (the  wig  being  laid  aside) 

not  bigger  than  a  child's.     This  daunted  me  ;  nor  less, 

the  haggard  surmise  of  misfortune  m  his  eye.     Yet  his 
10 


146  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

voice  was  cveu  peaceful  as  he  inquired  my  errand.  I 
set  my  caudle  down  upon  a  chair,  leaned  on  the  bed- 
foot,  and  looked  at  him. 

•'Lord  Durrisdccr,"  said  I,  "it  is  very  well  known  to 
you  that  I  am  a  partisan  in  3'our  family.'' 

'^  I  hope  we  are  none  of  us  partisans,"  said  he. 
"That  you  love  my  son  sincerely,  I  have  always  been 
glad  to  recognize." 

"  0,  my  lord,  we  are  past  the  hour  of  these  civilities," 
I  replied.  "If  we  are  to  save  anything  out  of  the  fire, 
we  must  look  the  fact  in  its  bare  countenance.  A  parti- 
san I  am  ;  partisans  we  have  all  been  ;  it  is  as  a  parti- 
san that  I  am  here  in  the  middle  of  the  night  to  plead 
before  you.     Hear  me  ;  before  I  go,  I  will  tell  you  why." 

''I  would  always  hear  you,  Mr.  Mackellar,"  said  he, 
"and  that  at  any  hour,  whether  of  the  day  or  night, 
for  I  would  be  always  sure  you  had  a  reason.  You 
spoke  once  before  to  very  proper  purpose  ;  I  have  not 
forgotten  that." 

"I  am  here  to  plead  the  cause  of  my  master,"  I  said. 
"  I  need  not  tell  you  how  he  acts.  You  know  how  he 
is  placed.  You  know  with  what  generosity  he  has 
always  met  your  other — met  your  wishes,"  I  corrected 
myself,  stumbling  at  that  name  of  son.  "You  know 
— you  must  know — what  he  has  suffered — what  he  has 
suffered  about  his  wife." 

"  Mr.  Mackellar  ! "  cried  my  lord,  rising  in  bed  likr 
a  bearded  lion. 


THE   NIGHT   OF   FEBRUARY   27TH.  147 

"  You  said  you  would  hear  me,"  I  continued.  "  What 
you  do  not  know,  what  you  shoukl  know,  one  of  the 
things  I  am  here  to  speak  of — is  the  persecution  he 
must  bear  in  private.  Your  back  is  not  turned,  before 
one  whom  I  dare  not  name  to  you  falls  upon  him  with 
the  most  unfeeling  taunts  ;  twits  him — pardon  me,  my 
lord  !  twits  him  with  your  partiality,  calls  him  Jacob, 
calls  him  clown,  pursues  him  with  ungenerous  raillery, 
not  to  be  borne  by  man.  And  let  but  one  of  you  appear, 
instantly  he  changes ;  and  my  master  must  smile  and 
courtesy  to  the  man  who  has  been  feeding  him  with 
insults;  I  know — for  I  have  shared  in  some  of  it,  and 
I  tell  you  the  life  is  insupportable.  All  these  months 
it  has  endured ;  it  began  with  the  man's  landing  ;  it 
was  by  the  name  of  Jacob  that  my  master  was  greeted 
the  first  night." 

My  lord  made  a  movement  as  if  to  throw  aside  the 

clothes  and  rise.     "  If  there  be  any  truth  in  this " 

said  he. 

*'  Do  I  look  like  a  man  lying  ?  "  I  interrupted,  check- 
ing him  with  my  hand. 

"You  should  have  told  me  at  first,"  he  said. 

''Ah,  my  lord,  indeed  I  should,  and  you  may  well 
hate  the  face  of  this  unfaithful  servant !  "  I  cried. 

"  I  will  take  order,"  said  he,  "  at  once."  And  again 
made  the  movement  to  rise. 

Again  I  checked  him.  "I  have  not  done,"  said  I. 
"  Would  God  I   had  !     All  this  my  dear,  unfortunate 


148  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLANTRAK 

patron  has  endured  without  help  or  countenance.  Your 
own  best  word,  my  lord,  was  only  gratitude.  Oh,  but  he 
was  your  son,  too  !  He  had  no  other  father.  He  was 
hated  in  the  country,  God  knows  how  unjustly.  He 
had  a  loveless  marriage.  He  stood  on  all  hands  without 
affection  or  support,  dear,  generous,  ill-fated,  noble 
heart." 

"  Your  tears  do  you  much  honor  and  me  much 
shame,"  says  my  lord,  with  a  palsied  trembling.  '-'But 
yon  do  me  some  injustice.  Henry  has  been  ever  dear 
to  me,  very  dear.  James  (I  do  not  deny  it,  Mr.  Mac- 
kellar),  James  is  perhaps  dearer  ;  you  have  not  seen  my 
James  in  quite  a  favourable  light ;  lie  has  suffered  under 
his  misfortunes  ;  and  we  can  only  remember  how  great 
and  how  unmerited  these  were.  And  even  now  his  is 
the  more  affectionate  nature.  But  I  will  not  speak  of 
him.  All  that  you  say  of  Henry  is  most  true  ;  I  do  not 
wonder,  I  know  him  to  be  very  magnanimous  ;  you  will 
say  I  trade  upon  the  knowledge  ?  It  is  possible  ;  there 
are  dangerous  virtues ;  virtues  that  tempt  the  encroacher. 
Mr.  Mackellar,  I  will  make  it  up  to  him  ;  I  will  take 
order  with  all  this.  I  have  been  weak  ;  and  what  is 
worse,  I  have  been  dull." 

'*  I  must  not  hear  you  blame  yourself,  my  lord,  with 
that  which  I  have  yet  to  tell  upon  my  conscience,"  I 
replied.  "  You  have  not  been  weak  ;  you  have  been 
abused  by  a  devilish  dissembler.  You  saw  yourself  how 
he  had  deceived  you  in  the  matter  of  his  danger ;  he  has 


THE   NIGHT   OF   FEBRUARY   27TH.  149 

deceived  yon  throughout  in  every  step  of  his  career.  I 
wish  to  phick  him  from  your  heart ;  I  wish  to  force 
your  eyes  upon  your  otlier  son  ;  ah,  you  have  a  son 
there  ! " 

"No,  no,"  said  he,  "  two  sons — I  have  two  sons." 

I  made  some  gesture  of  despair  that  struck  him  ;  he 
looked  at  me  with  a  changed  face,  ''There  is  much 
worse  behind  ?  "  he  asked,  his  voice  dying  as  it  rose  upon 
the  question. 

'•Much  worse,"  I  answered.  "This  night  he  said 
these  words  to  Mr.  Henry  :  '  I  have  never  known  a 
"woman  who  did  not  prefer  me  to  you,  and  I  think  who 
did  not  continue  to  prefer  me.'" 

"I  will  hear  nothing  against  my  daughter,"  he  cried; 
and  from  his  readiness  to  stop  me  in  this  direction,  I 
conclude  his  eyes  were  not  so  dull  as  I  had  fancied,  and 
he  had  looked  on  not  without  anxiety  upon  the  siege  of 
Mrs.  Henry. 

"I  think  not  of  blaming  her,"  cried  I.  "It  is  not 
that.  These  words  were  said  in  my  hearing  to  Mr. 
Henry  ;  and  if  you  find  them  not  yet  plain  enough,  these 
otliers  but  a  little  after  :  '  Your  wife  who  is  in  love  with 
me.'  " 

"  They  have  quarrelled  ?  "  he  said. 

I  nodded. 

"  I  must  fly  to  them,"  he  said,  beginning  once  again 
to  leave  his  bed. 

*'  No,  no  ! "  I  cried,  holding  forth  my  hands. 


'150  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

*' You  do  not  know,"  said  he.  "  These  are  dangerous 
words." 

"Will  nothing  make  you  understand,  my  lord?" 
said  I. 

His  eyes  besought  me  for  the  truth. 

I  flung  myself  on  my  knees  by  the  bedside.  "  0  my 
lord,"  cried  I,  ''think  on  him  3'ou  have  left,  think  of 
this  poor  sinner  whom  you  begot,  whom  your  wife  bore 
to  you,  whom  we  have  none  of  ns  strengthened  as  we 
conld  ;  think  of  him,  not  of  yourself  ;  he  is  the  other 
sufferer — think  of  him  !  That  is  the  door  for  sorrow, 
Christ's  door,  God's  door  :  0,  it  stands  open.  Think  of 
him,  even  as  he  thought  of  you.  Wlio  is  to  tdl  the  old 
man  ? — these  were  his  words.  It  was  for  that  I  came  ; 
that  is  why  I  am  here  pleading  at  your  feet." 

"  Let  mo  get  up,"  he  cried,  thrusting  me  aside,  and 
was  on  his  feet  before  myself.  His  voice  shook  like  a 
sail  in  the  wind,  yet  he  spoke  with  a  good  loudness  ;  his 
face  was  like  the  snow,  but  his  eyes  were  steady  and  dry. 
*'Here  is  too  mucli  speech  ! "  said  he.    "  Where  was  it  ?  " 

"In  the  shrubbery,"  said  I. 

"And  Mr.  Henry  ?"  he  asked.  And  when  I  had  told 
him  he  knotted  his  old  face  in  thought. 

"  And  Mr.  James  ?  "  says  lie. 

"I  have  left  him  lying,"  said  I,  "beside  the  candles." 

"Candles?"  he  cried.  And  with  that  he  ran  to  the 
window,  opened  it,  and  looked  abroad.  "It  might  be 
spied  from  the  road." 


THE   NIGHT   OF   FEBRUARY   27TH.  151 

*'  Where  none  goes  by  at  such  an  hour,"  I  objected. 

"It  makes  no  mattei*,"  he  said.  "One  might. 
Hark  ! "  cries  he.      "  What  is  that  ?  " 

It  was  the  sound  of  men  very  guardedly  rowing  in  the 
bay ;  and  I  told  him  so. 

"The  freetraders,"  said  my  lord.  "  Eun  at  once, 
Mackellar,  put  these  candles  out.  I  will  dress  in  the 
meanwhile ;  and  when  you  return  we  can  debate  on 
what  is  wisest." 

I  groped  my  way  downstairs,  and  out  at  the  door. 
From  quite  a  far  way  off  a  sheen  was  visible,  making 
points  of  brightness  in  the  shmbbery ;  in  so  black  a 
night  it  might  have  been  remarked  for  miles ;  and  I 
blamed  myself  bittei'ly  for  my  incaution:  How  much 
more  sharply  when  I  reached  the  place  !  One  of  the 
candlesticks  was  overthrown,  and  that  taper  quenched. 
The  other  burned  steadily  by  itself,  and  made  a  broad 
space  of  light  upon  the  frosted  ground.  All  within  that 
circle  seemed,  by  the  force  of  contrast  and  the  overhang- 
ing blackness,  brighter  than  by  day.  And  there  was  the 
bloodstain  in  the  midst ;  and  a  little  further  off  Mr. 
Henry's  sword,  the  pommel  of  which  was  of  silver  ;  but 
of  the  body,  not  a  trace.  My  heart  thumped  upon  my 
ribs,  the  hair  stirred  upon  my  scalp,  as  I  stood  there 
staring;  so  strange  was  the  siglit,  so  dire  the  fears  it 
wakened.  I  looked  right  and  left ;  the  ground  was  so 
hard  it  told  no  story.  I  stood  and  listened  till  my  cars 
ached,  but  the  night  was  hollow  about  me  like  an  em^Dty 


152  THE    MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

church  ;  not  even  a  ripple  stirred  upon  the  shore ;  it 
seemed  you  might  have  heard  a  pin  drop  in  the  county. 

I  put  the  candle  out,  and  the  blackness  fell  about  me 
groping  dark  ;  it  was  like  a  crowd  surrounding  me ;  and 
I  went  back  to  the  house  of  Durrisdeer,  with  my  chm 
upon  my  shoulder,  startling,  as  I  went,  with  craven  sup- 
positions. In  the  door  a  figure  moved  to  meet  me,  and 
I  had  near  screamed  with  terror  ere  I  recognized  Mrs. 
Henry. 

"  Have  you  told  him  ?"  says  she. 

*' It  was  he  who  sent  me,"  said  I.  "It  is  gone.  But 
why  are  you  here  ?  " 

"  It  is  gone  !  "  she  repeated.     "■  What  is  gone  ?  " 

"The  body,"  said  I.  'MVhy  are  you  not  with  your 
husband  ?  " 

"Gone?"  said  she.  "You  cannot  have  looked. 
Come  back." 

"There  is  no  light  now,"  said  I.     " I  dare  not." 

"  I  can  see  in  the  dark.  I  have  been  standing  here 
so  long — so  long,"  said  she.  "Come;  give  me  your 
hand." 

We  returned  to  the  shrubbery  hand  in  hand,  and  to 
the  fatal  place. 

"Take  care  of  the  blood,"  said  I. 

"Blood  ?"  she  cried,  and  started  violently  back. 

"I  suppose  it  will  be,"  said  I.  "I  am  like  a  blind 
man." 

"  No,"  said  she,  "'  nothing  !    Have  you  not  dreamed? " 


THE   NIGHT  OF   FEBRUARY   27TH.  153 

"Ah,  would  to  God  we  had  !  "  cried  I. 

She  spied  the  sword,  picked  it  up,  and,  seeing  the 
blood,  let  it  fall  again  with  her  hands  thrown  wide. 
*' Ah  !  "  she  cried.  And  then,  with  an  instant  courage, 
handled  it  the  second  time  and  thrust  it  to  the  hilt  into 
the  frozen  ground.  "I  will  take  it  back  and  clean  it 
properly,"  says  she,  and  again  looked  about  her  on  all 
sides.     "It  cannot  be  that  he  was  dead  ?"  she  added. 

"  There  was  no  flutter  of  his  heart,"  said  T,  and 
then  remembering  :  "  Why  are  you  not  with  your  hus- 
band ?  " 

"It  is  no  use,"  said  she,  "  he  will  not  speak  to  me." 

"  Not  speak  to  you  ?  "  I  repeated.  "  0,  you  have  not 
tried  ! " 

"  You  have  a  right  to  doubt  me,"  she  replied,  with  a 
gentle  dignity. 

At  this,  for  the  first  time,  I  was  seized  with  sorrow  for 
her.  "God  knows,  madam,"  I  cried,  "  God  knows  I  am 
not  so  hard  as  I  appear  ;  on  this  dreadful  night,  who 
can  veneer  his  words  ?  But  I  am  a  friend  to  all  who 
are  not  Henry  Curie's  enemies  !  " 

"  It  is  hard,  then,  you  should  hesitate  about  his  wife," 
said  she. 

I  saw  all  at  once,  like  the  rending  of  a  veil,  how  nobly 
she  had  borne  this  unnatural  calamity,  and  how  gener- 
ously my  reproaches. 

"  We  must  go  back  and  tell  this  to  my  lord,"  said  I. 

"Him  I  cannot  face,"  she  cried. 


154  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLANTRAE. 

"You  will  find  him  the  least  moved  of  all  of  us," 
said  I, 

*'  And  yet  I  cannot  face  him,"  said  she. 

**  Well,"  said  I,  "  you  can  return  to  Mr.  Henry  ;  I  will 
see  my  lord." 

As  we  walked  back,  I  bearing  the  candlesticks,  she  the 
sword, — a  strange  burthen  for  that  woman, — she  had  an- 
other thought.     "  Should  we  tell  Henry  ?  "  she  asked. 

''  Let  my  lord  decide,"  said  I. 

My  lord  was  nearly  dressed  when  I  came  to  his  cham- 
ber. He  heard  me  with  a  frown.  "  The  freetraders," 
said  he.     "  But  whether  dead  or  alive  ?  " 

''I  thought  him — "  said  I,  and  paused,  ashamed  of 
the  word. 

"  I  know  ;  but  you  may  very  well  have  been  in  error. 
"Why  should  they  remove  him  if  not  living  ?  "  he  asked. 
'*0,  here  is  a  great  door  of  hope.  It  must  be  given  out 
that  he  departed — as  he  came — without  any  note  of 
preparation.     We  must  save  all  scandal." 

I  saw  he  had  fallen,  like  the  rest  of  us,  to  think  mainly 
of  the  house.  Now  that  all  the  living  members  of  the 
family  were  plunged  in  irremediable  sorrow,  it  was 
strange  how  we  turned  to  that  conjoint  abstraction  of 
the  family  itself,  and  sought  to  bolster  up  the  airy  noth- 
ing of  its  reputation  :  not  the  Duries  only,  but  the  hired 
steward  himself. 

"  Are  we  to  tell  Mr.  Henry  ?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  I  will  see,"  said  he.     "  I  am  going  first  to  visit  him, 


.    THE   NIGHT   OF   FEBRUARY   27TH.  155 

then  I  go  forth  with  you  to  view  the  shrubbery  and  con- 
sider." 

We  went  downstairs  into  tlie  hall.  Mr.  Henry  sat 
by  the  table  with  his  head  upon  his  hand,  like  a  man  of 
stone.  His  wife  stood  a  little  back  from  him,  her  hand 
at  her  mouth  ;  it  was  plain  she  could  not  move  him. 
My  old  lord  walked  very  steadily  to  where  his  son  was 
sitting  ;  he  had  a  steady  countenance,  too,  but  methought 
a  little  cold  ;  when  he  was  come  quite  up,  he  held  out 
both  his  hands  and  said  :   "  My  son  !  " 

With  a  broken,  strangled  cry,  Mr.  Henry  leaped  up 
and  fell  on  his  father's  neck,  crying  and  weeping,  the 
most  pitiful  sight  that  ever  a  man  witnessed.  ''0 
father,"  he  cried,  "you  know  I  loved  him  ;  you  know 
I  loved  him  in  the  beginning ;  I  could  have  died  for 
him — you  know  that !  I  would  have  given  my  life  for 
him  and  you.  0  say  you  know  that !  0  say  you 
can  forgive  me  !  0  father,  father,  what  have  I  done, 
what  have  I  done  ?  and  we  used  to  be  bairns  together  ! " 
and  wept  and  sobbed,  and  fondled  the  old  man,  and 
clutched  him  about  the  neck,  with  the  passion  of  a 
child  in  terror. 

And  then  he  caught  sight  of  his  wife,  you  would  have 
thought  for  the  first  time,  where  she  stood  weeping  to 
hear  him  ;  and  in  a  moment  had  fallen  at  her  knees. 
*'And  0  my  lass,"  he  cried,  "'you  must  forgive  me, 
too  !  Not  your  husband — I  have  only  been  the  ruin  of 
your  life.     But  you  knew  me  when  I  was  a  lad  ;  there 


156  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE.     . 

was  no  harm  in  Henry  Durie  then  ;  he  meant  aye  to  be 
a  friend  to  yoii.  It's  him — it's  the  old  bairn  tliat  played 
with  you — 0  can  ye  never,  never  forgive  him  ?  " 

Throughout  all  this  my  lord  was  like  a  cold,  kind 
spectator  with  his  wits  about  him.  At  the  first  cry, 
which  was  indeed  enough  to  call  the  house  about  us,  he 
had  said  to  me  over  his  shoulder,  ''Close  the  door." 
And  now  he  nodded  to  himself. 

"  We  may  leave  him  to  his  wife  now,"  says  be. 
"Bring  a  light,  Mr.  Mackellar." 

Upon  my  going  forth  again  with  my  lord,  I  was  aware 
of  a  strange  phenomenon  ;  for  though  it  was  quite  dark, 
and  the  night  not  yet  old,  methought  I  smelt  the  morn- 
ing. At  the  same  time  there  went  a  tossing  through 
the  branches  of  the  evergreens,  so  that  they  sounded 
like  a  quiet  sea  ;  and  the  air  puffed  at  times  against  our 
faces,  and  the  flame  of  the  candle  shook.  "We  made  the 
more  speed,  I  believe,  being  surrounded  by  this  bustle  ; 
visited  the  scene  of  the  duel,  where  my  lord  looked  upon 
the  blood  with  stoicism  ;  and  passing  farther  on  toward 
the  landing-place,  came  at  last  upon  some  evidences 
of  the  truth.  For  first  of  all,  where  there  was  a  pool 
across  the  path,  the  ice  had  been  trodden  in,  plainly  by 
more  than  one  man's  weight ;  next,  and  but  a  little  fur- 
ther, a  young  tree  was  broken ;  and  down  by  the  land- 
ing-place, where  the  trader's  boats  were  usually  beached, 
another  stain  of  blood  marked  where  the  body  must 
have  been  infallibly  set  down  to  rest  the  bearers. 


THE   NIGHT  OF   FEBRUARY  27TH.  157 

This  stain  we  set  ourselves  to  wash  away  with  the  sea- 
water,  carrying  it  in  my  lord's  hat ;  and  as  we  were  thus 
engaged,  there  came  up  a  sudden,  moaning  gust  and  left 
us  instantly  benighted. 

''It  will  come  to  snow/'  says  my  lord  ;  "and  the  best 
thing  that  we  could  hope.  Let  us  go  back  now  ;  we 
can  do  nothing  in  the  dark." 

As  we  went  houseward,  the  wind  being  again  sub- 
sided, we  were  aware  of  a  strong  pattering  noise  about 
us  in  the  night ;  and  when  we  issued  from  the  shelter 
of  the  trees,  we  found  it  raining  smartly. 

Throughout  the  whole  of  this,  my  lord's  clearness  of 
mind,  no  less  than  his  activity  of  body,  had  not  ceased 
to  minister  to  my  amazement.  He  set  the  crown  upon 
it  in  the  council  we  held  on  our  return.  The  free- 
traders had  certainly  secured  the  Master,  though  whether 
dead  or  alive  we  were  still  left  to  our  conjectures;  the 
rain  would,  long  before  day,  wipe  out  all  marks  of  the 
transaction  ;  by  this  we  must  profit :  the  Master  had 
unexpectedly  come  after  the  fall  of  night,  it  must  novy 
be  given  out  he  had  as  suddenly  departed  before  tho-. 
break  of  day  ;  and  to  make  all  this  plausible,^  i,t  noW' 
only  remained  for  me  to  mount  into  the  man's  chamber, 
and  pack  and  conceal  his  baggage.  True,  we  still  lay  at 
the  discretion  of  the  traders  ;  but  that  was  the  incur- 
able weakness  of  our  guilt. 

1  heard  him,  as  I  said,  with  wonder,  and  hastened  to 
obey.     Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  were  gone  from  the  hall ; 


158  THE    MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

my  lord,  for  warmth's  sake,  lnirrie<l  to  his  bed  ;  there 
was  still  no  sign  of  stir  among  the  servants,  and  as  I 
went  up  the  tower  stair,  and  entered  the  dead  man's 
room,  a  horror  of  solitude  weighed  upon  my  mind.  To 
my  extreme  surprise,  it  was  all  m  the  disorder  of  depart- 
ure. Of  his  three  portmanteaux,  two  were  ready  locked, 
the  third  lay  open  and  near  full.  At  once  there  flashed 
upon  me  some  suspicion  of  the  truth.  The  man  had 
been  going  after  all ;  he  had  but  waited  upon  Crail,  as 
Crail  waited  upon  the  wind  ;  early  in  the  night,  the 
seamen  had  perceived  the  weather  changing ;  the  boat 
had  come  to  give  notice  of  the  change  and  call  the  pas- 
senger aboard,  and  the  boat's  crew  had  stumbled  on  him 
lying  in  his  blood.  Nay,  and  there  was  more  behind. 
This  prearranged  departure  shed  some  light  upon  his 
inoonceivable  insalt  of  the  night  before  ;  it  was  a  part- 
ing shot ;  hatred  being  no  longer  checked  by  policy. 
And  for  another  thing,  the  nature  of  that  insult,  and 
the  conduct  of  Mrs.  Henry,  pointed  to  one  conclusion  : 
which  I  have  never  verified,  and  can  now  never  verify 
until  the  great  assize  :  the  conclusion  that  he  had  at  last 
forgotten  himself,  had  gone  too  far  in  his  advances,  and 
had  been  rebuffed.  It  can  never  be  verified,  as  I  say ; 
but  as  I  thought  of  it  that  morning  among  his  baggage, 
the  thought  was  sweet  to  me  like  honey. 

Into  the  open  portmanteau  I  dipped  a  little  ere  I 
closed  it.  The  most  beautiful  lace  and  linen,  many  suits 
of  those  fine  plain  clothes  in  which  he  loved  to  appear  ; 


THE   NIGHT   OF   FEBRUARY   27TII.  159 

a  book  or  two,  and  those  of  the  best,  Cesar's  '^  Com- 
mentaries," a  volume  of  Mr.  Ilobbes,  the  "  Ilenriade  " 
of  M.  de  Voltaire,  a  book  upon  the  Indies,  one  on  the 
mathematics,  far  beyond  where  I  have  studied  :  these 
were  what  I  observed  with  very  mingled  feelings.  But 
in  the  oj^en  portmanteau,  no  papers  of  any  description. 
This  set  me  musing.  It  was  possible  the  man  was  dead  ; 
but,  since  the  traders  had  carried  him  away,  not  likely. 
It  was  possible  he  might  still  die  of  his  wound  ;  but  it 
was  also  possible  he  miglit  not.  And  in  this  latter  case 
I  was  determined  to  have  the  means  of  some  defence. 

One  after  anotber  I  carried  his  portmanteaux  to  a  loft 
in  the  top  of  the  house  which  we  kept  locked  ;  went  to 
my  own  room  for  my  keys,  and,  returning  to  the  loft, 
had  the  gratification  to  find  two  that  fitted  pretty  well. 
In  one  of  the  portmanteaux  there  was  a  shagreen  letter- 
case,  which  I  cut  open  with  my  knife  ;  and  thenceforth 
(so  far  as  any  credit  went)  the  man  was  at  my  mercy. 
Here  was  a  vast  deal  of  gallant  correspondence,  chiefly 
of  his  Paris  days  ;  and  what  was  more  to  the  purpose, 
here  were  the  copies  of  his  own  reports  to  the  English 
secretary,  and  the  originals  of  the  secretary's  answers  : 
a  most  damning  series  :  such  as  to  publish  would  be  to 
wreck  the  Master's  honour  and  to  set  a  price  upon  his 
life.  I  chuckled  to  myself  as  I  ran  through  the  doc- 
uments ;  I  rubbed  my  hands,  I  sang  aloud  in  my  glee. 
Day  found  me  at  the  pleasing  task  ;  nor  did  I  then 
remit  my  diligence,  except  in  so  far  as  I  went  to  the 


ICO  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

window — looked  out  for  a  moment,  to  see  the  frost  quite 
gone,  the  world  turned,  black  again,  and  the  rain  and 
the  wind  driving  in  the  bay — and  to  assure  myself  that 
the  lugger  was  gone  from  its  anchorage,  and  the  Master 
(whether  dead  or  alive)  now  tumbling  on  the  Irish  Sea. 
It  is  proper  I  should  add  in  this  place  the  very  little 
I  have  subsequently  angled  out  upon  the  doings  of  that 
night.  It  took  me  a  long  while  to  gather  it ;  for  we 
dared  not  openly  ask,  and  the  freetraders  regarded  me 
with  enmity,  if  not  with  scorn.  It  was  near  six  months 
before  we  even  knew  for  certain  that  the  man  survived  ; 
and  it  was  years  before  I  learned  from  one  of  Grail's 
men,  turned  publican  on  his  ill-gotten  gain,  some  par- 
ticulars which  smack  to  me  of  truth.  It  seems  the  trad- 
ers found  the  Master  struggled  on  one  elbow,  and  now 
staring  round  him,  and  now  gazing  at  the  candle  or  at 
his  hand  which  was  all  bloodied,  like  a  man  stupid. 
Upon  their  comiiig,  he  would  seem  to  have  found  his 
mind,  bade  them  carry  him  aboard  and  hold  their 
tongues ;  and  on  the  captain  asking  how  he  had  come 
in  such  a  pickle,  replied  with  a  burst  of  passionate 
swearing,  and  incontinently  fainted.  They  held  some 
debate,  but  they  were  momently  looking  for  a  wind, 
they  were  highly  paid  to  smuggle  him  to  France,  and 
did  not  care  to  delay.  Besides  which,  he  was  well 
enough  liked  by  these  abominable  wretches  :  they  sup- 
posed him  under  capital  sentence,  knew  not  in  what 
mischief  he  might  have  got  his  wound,  and  judged  it  a 


THE    NIGHT   OF   FEBRUARY   27TH,  161 

piece  of  good  nature  to  remove  him  out  of  the  way  of 
danger.  So  he  was  taken  aboard,  recovered  on  the  pas- 
sage over,  and  was  set  ashore  a  convalescent  at  the  Havre 
de  Grace.  What  is  truly  notable  :  he  said  not  a  word  to 
anyone  of  the  duel,  and  not  a  trader  knows  to  this  day 
in  what  quarrel,  or  by  the  hand  of  what  adversary,  he 
fell.  With  any  other  man  I  should  have  set  this  down 
to  natural  decency  ;  with  him,  to  pride.  He  could  not 
bear  to  avow,  perhaps  even  to  himself,  that  he  had  been 
vanquished  by  one  whom  he  had  so  much  insulted  and 

whom  he  so  cruelly  despised. 
11 


SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS    DURING    THE 
MASTER'S    SECOND    ABSENCE. 

Of  the  heavy  sickness  which  declared  itself  next  morn- 
ing, I  can  think  with  equanimity  as  of  the  last  uumingled 
trouble  that  befell  my  master  ;  and  even  that  was  per- 
haps a  mercy  in  disguise  ;  for  w^hat  pains  of  the  body 
could  equal  the  miseries  of  his  mind  ?  Mrs.  Henry  and 
I  had  the  watching  by  the  bed.  My  old  lord  called  from 
time  to  time  to  take  the  news,  but  would  not  usually 
pass  the  door.  Once,  I  remember,  when  hope  was  nigh 
gone,  he  stepped  to  the  bedside,  looked  awhile  in  his 
son's  face,  and  turned  away  with  a  singular  gesture  of 
the  head  and  hand  thrown  up,  that  remains  upon  my 
mind,  as  something  tragic  ;  such  grief  and  such  a  scorn 
of  sublunary  things  were  there  expressed.  But  the  most 
of  the  time,  Mrs.  Henry  and  I  had  the  room  to  ourselves, 
taking  turns  by  night  and  bearing  each  other  company 
by  day,  for  it  was  dreary  watching.  Mr.  Henry,  his 
shaven  head  bound  in  a  napkin,  tossed  to  and  fro  with- 
out remission,  beating  the  bed  with  his  hands.  His 
tongue  never  lay ;  his  voice  ran  continuously  like  a 
river,  so  that  my  heart  was  weary  with  the  sound  of  it. 
It  was  notable,  and  to  me  inexpressibly  mortifying,  that 


THE   master's   second   ABSENCE.  168 

he  spoke  all  the  while  on  matters  of  no  import  :  com- 
ings and  goings,  horses — which  he  was  ever  calling  to 
have  saddled,  thinking  perhaps  (the  poor  soul !)  that  he 
might  ride  away  from  his  discomfort — matters  of  the 
garden,  the  salmon  nets,  and  (what  I  particularly  raged 
to  hear)  continually  of  his  affairs,  cyphering  figures  and 
holding  disputation  with  the  tenantry.  Never  a  word  of 
his  father  or  his  wife,  nor  of  the  Master,  save  only  for 
a  day  or  two,  when  his  mind  dwelled  entirely  in  the 
past  and  he  supposed  himself  a  boy  again  and  upon  some 
innocent  child's  play  with  his  brother.  "What  made 
this  the  more  affecting  :  it  appeared  the  Master  had 
then  run  some  peril  of  his  life,  for  there  was  a  cry — 
''0,  Jamie  will  be  drowned — 0,  save  Jamie  !"  which 
he  came  over  and  over  with  a  great  deal  of  passion. 

This,  I  say,  was  affecting,  both  to  Mrs.  Henry  and 
myself  ;  but  the  balance  of  my  master's  wanderings  did 
him  little  justice.  It  seemed  he  had  set  out  to  Justify 
his  brother's  calumnies  ;  as  though  he  was  bent  to  prove 
himself  a  man  of  a  dry  nature,  immersed  in  money- 
getting.  Had  I  been  there  alone,  I  would  not  have 
troubled  my  thumb ;  but  all  the  while,  as  I  listened,  T 
was  estimatiiig  the  effect  on  the  man's  wife,  and  telling 
myself  that  he  fell  lower  every  day.  I  was  the  one 
person  on  the  surface  of  the  globe  that  comprehended 
him,  and  I  was  bound  there  sliould  be  yet  another. 
Whether  he  was  to  die  there  and  his  virtues  perish ; 
or  whether  he  should  save  his  days  and  come  back  to 


164        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

that  inheritance  of  sorrows,  his  right  memory :  I  was 
bound  he  should  be  heartily  lamented  in  the  one  case 
and  unaffectedly  welcomed  in  the  other,  by  the  person 
he  loved  the  most,  his  Avife. 

Finding  no  occasion  of  free  speech,  I  bethought  me  at 
last  of  a  kind  of  documentary  disclosure  ;  and  for  some 
nights,  when  I  was  off  duty  and  should  have  been  asleep, 
I  gave  my  time  to  the  preparation  of  that  whicli  I  may 
call  my  budget.  But  this  I  found  to  be  the  easiest 
portion  of  my  task,  and  that  which  remained,  namely 
the  presentation  to  my  lady,  almost  more  than  I  had 
fortitude  to  overtake.  Several  days  I  went  about  with 
my  papers  under  my  arm,  spying  for  some  juncture  of 
talk  to  serve  as  introduction.  I  will  not  deny  but  that 
some  offered  ;  only  when  tlicy  did,  my  tongue  clove  to 
the  roof  of  my  mouth  ;  and  T  think  I  might  have  been 
carrying  about  my  packet  till  this  day,  had  not  a 
fortunate  accident  delivered  me  from  all  my  hesitations. 
This  was  at  night,  when  I  was  once  more  leaving  the 
room,  the  thing  not  yet  done,  and  myself  in  despair  at 
my  own  cowardice. 

"What  do  you  carry  about  with  you,  Mr.  Mackellar  ?" 
she  asked.  ''These  last  days,  I  see  you  always  coming 
in  and  out  with  the  same  armful." 

I  returned  upon  my  steps  without  a  word,  laid  the 
papers  before  her  on  the  table,  and  left  her  to  her  read- 
ing. Of  what  that  was,  I  am  now  to  give  you  some 
idea ;  and  the  best  will  be  to  reproduce  a  letter  of  my 


THE    master's   second   ABSENCE.  165 

own  which  came  first  in  the  budget  and  of  which 
(according  to  an  excellent  habitude)  I  have  preserved 
the  scroll.  It  will  show  too  the  moderation  of  my  part 
in  these  affairs,  a  thing  which  some  have  called  reck- 
lessly in  question. 

"  Durrisdeer. 
"  1757. 
**  Honoured  Madam, 

"  I  trust  I  would  not  step  out  of  my  place  without 
occasion  ;  but  I  see  how  much  evil  has  flowed  in  the 
past  to  all  of  your  noble  house  from  that  unhappy  and 
secretive  fault  of  reticency,  and  the  papers  on  which  I 
venture  to  call  your  attention  are  family  papers  and  all 
highly  worthy  your  acquaintance. 

"I  append  a  schedule  with  some  necessary  observa- 
tions, 

"  And  am, 

"  Honoured  Madam, 
"  Your  ladyship's  obliged,  obedient  servant, 

''Ephraim  Mackellae. 

"  Schedule  of  Papers. 

"A.  Scroll  of  ten  letters  from  Ephraim  Mackellar  to 
the  Hon.  James  Durie,  Esq.,  by  courtesy  Master  of  Bal- 
lantrae  during  the  lattcrs  residence  in  Paris  :  under 
dates  .  .  ."  (folloiu  the  dates)  .  .  .  "Nota:  to 
be  read  in  connection  with  B.  and  C. 

"  B.  Seven  original  letters  from  the  said  M'  of  Bal- 


166  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE.     ^ 

lantrao  to  the  said  E.  Mackellar,  under  dates  .  .  ." 
{folloiu  the  dates). 

"  C.  Three  original  letters  from  the  said  M*"  of 
Ballantrac  to  the  Hon.  Ilenry  Durie,  Esq.,  nnder 
dates  .  .  ."  {folloiv  the  dates)  .  .  .  "-Nota: 
given  me  by  Mr.  Henry  to  answer  :  copies  of  my  answers 
A  4,  A  5,  and  A  9  of  these  productions.  The  purport 
of  Mr.  Henry's  communications,  of  which  I  can  find  no 
scroll,  may  he  gathered  from  those  of  his  unnatural 
brother. 

"D.  A  correspondence,  original  and  scroll,  extending 
over  a  period  of  three  years  till  January  of  the  current 

year,  between  the  said  M""  of  Ballantrac  and , 

Under  Secretary  of  State  ;  twenty-seven  in  all.  Nota  : 
found  among  the  Master's  papers." 

Weary  as  I  was  with  watching  and  distress  of  mind,  it 
"was  impossible  for  mc  to  sleep.  All  night  long,  I  walked 
in  my  chamber,  revolving  what  should  be  the  issue  and 
sometimes  repenting  the  temerity  of  my  immixture  in 
affairs  so  private  ;  and  with  the  first  peep  of  the  morn- 
ing, I  was  at  the  sick-room  door.  Mrs.  Henry  had 
thrown  open  the  shutters  and  even  the  window,  for  the 
temperature  was  mild.  She  looked  steadfastly  before 
her  ;  where  was  nothing  to  see,  or  only  the  blue  of  the 
morning  creeping  among  woods.  Upon  the  stir  of  my 
entrance,  she  did  not  so  much  as  turn  about  her  face  : 
a  circumstance  from  Avhich  I  augured  very  ill. 

"  Madam,"  I  began  ;  and  then  again,  ''  Madam  ;  "  but 
could  make  no  more  of  it.      Nor  yet  did  Mrs.  Henry 


THE   master's   second    ABSENCE.  167 

come  to  my  assistance  with  a  word.  In  this  pass  I  began 
gathering  up  the  papers  where  they  hiy  scattered  on  the 
table  ;  and  the  first  thing  that  struck  me,  their  bulk 
appeared  to  have  diminished.  Once  I  ran  them  through, 
and  twice  ;  but  the  correspondence  v.-ith  the  secretary 
of  state,  on  which  I  had  reckoned  so  mucli  against  the 
future,  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  I  looked  in  the  chim- 
ney ;  amid  the  smouldering  embers,  black  ashes  of  paper 
fluttered  in  the  draught ;  and  at  that  my  timidity  van- 
ished. 

"  Good  God,  matlam,"  cried  I,  in  a  voice  not  fitting 
for  a  sick-room,  "Good  God,  madam,  what  have  you 
done  with  my  papers  ?  •' 

"  I  have  burned  them,"  said  Mrs.  Henry,  turning 
about.  "  It  is  enough,  it  is  too  much,  that  you  and  I 
have  seen  them." 

"This  is  a  fine  night's  work  that  you  have  done!" 
cried  I.  "And  all  to  save  the  reputation  of  a  man  that 
ate  bread  by  the  shedding  of  his  comrades'  blood,  as  I  do 
by  the  shedding  ink." 

"  To  save  the  reputation  of  that  family  in  which  you 
are  a  servant,  Mr.  Mackellar,"  she  returned,  "and  for 
which  you  have  already  done  so  much." 

"  It  is  a  family  I  wall  not  serve  much  longer,"  I  cried, 
"for  I  am  driven  desj^erate.  You  have  stricken  the 
sword  out  of  my  hands  ;  you  have  left  us  all  defenceless. 
I  had  always  these  letters  I  could  shake  over  his  head  ; 
and  now — what  is  to  do  ?     We  are  so  falsely  situate,  we 


168        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

dare  not  show  the  man  the  door  ;  the  country  would  fly 
on  fire  against  us;  and  I  had  this  one  hold  upon  him — 
and  now  it  is  gone — now  lie  may  come  back  to-morrow, 
and  we  must  all  sit  down  with  him  to  dinner,  go  for  a 
stroll  with  him  on  the  terrace,  or  take  a  hand  at  cards, 
of  all  things,  to  divert  his  leisure  !  No,  Madam;  God 
forgive  you,  if  he  can  find  it  in  his  heart ;  for  I  cannot 
find  it  in  mine." 

"  I  wonder  to  find  you  so  simple,  Mr.  Mackellar," 
said  jMrs.  Henry.  ''  What  does  this  man  value  reputa- 
tion ?  But  he  knows  how  high  we  prize  it ;  he  knows  we 
would  rather  die  than  make  these  letters  public  ;  and  do 
you  suppose  he  would  not  trade  upon  the  knowledge  ? 
What  you  call  your  sword,  Mr.  Mackellar,  and  which 
had  been  one  indeed  against  a  man  of  any  remnant  of 
propriety,  would  have  been  but  a  sword  of  paper  against 
him.  He  would  smile  in  your  face  at  such  a  threat.  He 
stands  upon  his  degradation,  he  makes  that  his  strength  ; 
it  is  in  vain  to  struggle  with  such  characters."  She  cried 
out  this  last  a  little  desperately,  and  then  with  more 
quiet :  "  No,  Mr.  Mackellar,  I  have  thought  upon  this 
matter  all  night,  and  there  is  no  way  out  of  it.  Papers 
or  no  papers,  the  door  of  this  house  stands  open  for 
him;  he  is  the  rightful  heir,  forsooth!  If  we  sought 
to  exclude  him,  all  would  redound  against  poor  Henry, 
and  1  should  see  him  stoned  again  upon  the  streets. 
Ah  !  if  Henry  dies,  it  is  a  different  matter !  They 
have  broke  the  entail  for  their  own  good  purposes  ;  the 


THE   master's   second  ABSENCE.  169 

estate  goes  to  my  daughter  ;  and  I  shall  see  who  sets  a 
foot  upon  it.  But  if  Henry  lives,  my  poor  Mr.  Mac- 
kellar,  and  that  man  returns,  we  must  sutfer  :  only  this 
time,  it  will  be  together." 

On  the  whole,  I  was  well  pleased  with  Mrs.  Henry's 
attitude  of  mind  ;  nor  could  I  even  deny  there  was  some 
cogency  in  that  which  she  advanced  about  the  j^apers. 

"  Let  us  say  no  more  about  it,"  said  I.  "  I  can  only 
be  sorry  I  trusted  a  lady  with  tlie  originals,  which  was 
an  unbusinesslike  proceeding  at  the  best.  As  for  what 
I  said  of  leaving  the  service  of  the  family,  it  was  spoken 
with  the  tongue  only  ;  and  you  may  set  your  mind  at 
rest.  I  belong  to  Durrisdeer,  Mrs.  Henry,  as  if  I  had 
been  born  there." 

•I  must  do  her  the  justice  to  say  she  seemed  perfectly 
relieved  ;  so  that  we  began  this  morning,  as  we  were 
to  continue  for  so  many  years,  on  a  proper  ground  of 
mutual  indulgence  and  respect. 

The  same  day,  which  was  certainly  prededicate  to  joy, 
we  observed  the  first  signal  of  recovery  in  Mr.  Henry  ; 
and  about  three  of  the  following  afternoon,  he  found  his 
mind  again,  recognizing  me  by  name  with  the  strongest 
evidences  of  affection.  Mrs.  Henry  was  also  in  the  room, 
at  the  bed  foot ;  but  it  did  not  appear  that  he  observed 
her.  And  indeed  (the  fever  being  gone)  he  was  so  weak 
that  he  made  but  the  one  effort  and  sank  again  into 
a  lethargy.  The  course  of  his  restoration  was  now  slow 
but   equal  ;   every   day,    his   appetite   improved ;  every 


170  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLANTKAE. 

week,  we  were  able  to  remark  an  increase  both  of 
strength  and  flesh ;  and  before  the  end  of  the  month, 
he  was  out  of  bed  and  had  even  begun  to  be  carried  in 
his  chair  upon  the  terrace. 

It  was  perhaps  at  this  time  that  Mrs.  Henry  and  I 
were  the  most  uneasy  in  mind.  Apprehension  for  his 
days  was  at  an  end  ;  and  a  worse  fear  succeeded.  Every 
day  we  drew  conscioiisly  nearer  to  a  day  of  reckoning ; 
and  the  days  passed  on,  and  still  there  was  nothing.  Mr. 
Henry  bettered  in  strength,  he  held  long  talks  with  us 
on  a  great  diversity  of  subjects,  his  father  came  and  sat 
with  him  and  went  again  ;  and  still  there  was  no  refer- 
ence to  the  late  tragedy  or  to  the  former  troubles  which 
had  brought  it  on.  Did  he  remember,  and  conceal  his 
dreadful  knowledge  ?  or  was  the  whole  blotted  from  his 
mind  ?  this  was  the  problem  that  kept  us  watching 
and  trembling  all  day  when  we  were  in  his  company, 
and  held  us  awake  at  night  when  we  were  in  our  lonely 
beds.  We  knew  not  even  which  alternative  to  hope  for, 
])oth  appearing  so  unnatural  and  pointing  so  directly 
to  an  unsound  brain.  Once  this  fear  offered,  I  observed 
his  conduct  with  sedulous  particularity.  Something  of 
the  child  he  exhibited  :  a  cheerfulness  quite  foreign  to 
his  previous  character,  an  interest  readily  aroused,  and 
then  very  tenacious^  in  small  matters  which  he  had 
heretofore  despised.  "When  he  was  stricken  down,  I  was 
his  only  confidant,  and  I  may  say  his  only  friend,  and 
he  was  on  terms  of   division  with  his  wife  ;  upon  his 


THE   master's   second   ABSENCE.  171 

recovery,  all  was  clianged,  the  past  forgotten,  tlie  wife 
first  and  even  single  in  his  thoughts.  He  turned  to 
her  with  all  his  emotions  like  a  child  to  its  mother, 
and  seemed  secure  of  sympathy  ;  called  her  in  all  his 
needs  with  something  of  that  querulous  familiarity  that 
marks  a  certainty  of  indulgence  ;  and  I  must  say,  in 
justice  to  the  woman,  he  was  never  disappointed.  To 
her,  indeed,  this  changed  behaviour  was  inexpressibly 
affecting  ;  and  I  think  she  felt  it  secretly  as  a  reproach; 
so  that  I  have  seen  her,  in  early  days,  escape  out  of  the 
room  that  she  might  indulge  herself  in  weeping.  But 
to  me,  the  change  appeared  not  natural  ;  and  viewing  it 
along  with  all  the  rest,  I  began  to  wonder,  with  many 
head-shakings,  whether  his  reason  were  perfectly  erect. 

As  this  doubt  stretched  over  many  years,  endured 
indeed  until  my  master's  death,  and  clouded  all  our 
subsequent  relations,  I  may  well  consider  of  it  more  at 
large.  When  he  was  able  to  resume  some  charge  of 
his  affairs,  I  had  many  opj^ortunities  to  try  him  with 
precision.  There  was  no  lack  of  understanding,  nor  yet 
of  authority  ;  but  the  old  continuous  interest  had  quite 
departed  ;  he  grew  readily  fatigued  and  fell  to  yawning  ; 
and  he  carried  into  money  relations,  where  it  is  certainly 
out  of  place,  a  facility  that  bordered  upon  slackness. 
True,  since  we  had  no  longer  the  exactions  of  the  Master 
to  contend  against,  there  was  the  less  occasion  to  raise 
strictness  into  principle  or  do  battle  for  a  farthing.  True 
again,  there  was  nothing  excessive  in  these  relaxations, 


172  THE    MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAK 

or  I  would  have  been  no  party  to  them.  But  the  whole 
thing  marked  a  change,  very  slight  yet  very  perceptible; 
and  though  no  man  could  say  my  master  had  gone  at 
all  out  of  his  mind,  no  man  could  deny  that  he  had 
drifted  from  his  character.  It  was  the  same  to  the  end, 
with  his  manner  and  appearance.  Some  of  the  heat  of 
the  fever  lingered  in  his  veins  :  his  movements  a  little 
hurried,  his  speech  notably  more  voluble,  yet  neither 
truly  amiss.  His  whole  mind  stood  open  to  happy 
impressions,  welcoming  these  and  making  much  of 
them  ;  but  the  smallest  suggestion  of  trouble  or  sorrow 
he  received  with  visible  impatience  and  dismissed  again 
with  immediate  relief.  It  was  to  this  temper  that  he 
owed  the  felicity  of  his  later  days  ;  and  yet  here  it  w^as,  if 
anywhere,  that  you  could  call  the  man  insane.  A  great 
part  of  this  life  consists  in  contemplating  what  we  can- 
not cure  ;  but  Mr.  Henry,  if  he  could  not  dismiss  solici- 
tude by  an  effort  of  the  mmd,  must  instantly  and  at 
"whatever  cost  annihilate  the  cause  of  it ;  so  that  he 
played  alternately  the  ostrich  and  the  bull.  It  is  to  this 
strenuous  cowardice  of  pain  that  I  have  to  set  down  all 
the  unfortunate  and  excessive  steps  of  his  subsequent 
career.  Certainly  this  was  the  reason  of  his  beating 
McManus,  the  groom,  a  thing  so  much  out  of  all  his 
former  practice  and  which  awakened  so  much  comment 
at  the  time.  It  is  to  this  again,  that  I  must  lay  the 
total  loss  of  near  upon  two  hundred  pounds,  more  than 
the  half  of  which  I  could  have  saved  if  his  impatience 


THE   master's   second   ABSENCE.  173 

would  have  suffered  me.  But  lie  preferred  loss  or  any 
desperate  extreme  to  a  continuance  of  mental  suffering. 

All  this  has  led  me  far  from  our  immediate  trouble  '. 
whether  he  remembered  or  had  forgotten  his  late  dread- 
ful act ;  and  if  he  remembered,  in  what  light  he  viewed 
it.  The  truth  burst  upon  us  suddenly,  and  was  indeed 
one  of  the  chief  surprises  of  my  life.  He  had  been 
several  times  abroad,  and  was  now  beginning  to  walk  a 
little  with  an  arm,  when  it  chanced  I  should  be  left 
alone  with  him  upon  the  terrace.  He  turned  to  me  with 
a  singular  furtive  smile,  such  as  schoolboys  use  when  in 
fault ;  and  says  he,  in  a  private  whisper  and  without  the 
least  preface  :  "  Where  have  you  buried  him  ?  " 

I  could  not  make  one  sound  in  answer. 

"Where  have  you  buried  him  ?  "  he  relocated.  "I 
want  to  see  his  grave." 

I  conceived  I  had  best  take  the  bull  by  the  horns. 
'*  Mr.  Henry,"  said  I,  "  I  have  news  to  give  that  will 
rejoice  you  exceedingly.  In  all  human  likelihood,  your 
hands  are  clear  of  blood.  I  reason  from  certain  indices  ; 
and  by  these  it  should  appear  your  brother  was  not 
dead,  but  was  carried  in  a  swound  on  board  the  lugger. 
By  now,  he  may  be  perfectly  recovered." 

What  there  was  in  his  countenance,  I  could  not  read. 
"  James  ?  "  he  asked. 

•' Your  brother  James,"  I  answered.  "I  would  not 
raise  a  hope  that  may  be  found  deceptive ;  but  in  ray 
heart,  I  think  it  very  probable  he  is  alive." 


174  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLANTRAE. 

"  Ah  ! "  says  Mr.  Henry  ;  and  suddenly  rising  from 
his  seat  with  more  alacrity  than  he  had  yet  discovered, 
set  one  finger  on  my  breast,  and  cried  at  me  in  a  kind  of 
screaming  whisper,  "Mackellar" — these  were  his  words 
— "  nothing  can  kill  that  man.  He  is  not  mortal.  He 
is  bound  upon  my  back  to  all  eternity — to  all  God's 
eternity  !  "  says  he,  and,  sitting  down  again,  fell  upon  a 
stubborn  silence. 

A  day  or  two  after,  with  the  same  secret  smile,  and 
first  looking  about  as  if  to  be  sure  we  were  alone, 
"  Mackellar,"  said  he,  ''  when  you  have  any  intelli- 
gence, be  sure  and  let  me  know.  We  must  keep  an  eye 
upon  him,  or  he  will  take  us  when  we  least  expect." 

''Ho  will  not  show  face  here  again,"  said  I. 

"0  yes,  he  will,"  said  Mr.  Henry.  ''Wherever  I  am 
there  will  he  be."     And  again  he  looked  all  about  him. 

"  You  must  not  dwell  upon  this  thought,  Mr.  Henry," 
said  I. 

"No,"  said  he,  "that  is  a  very  good  advice.  We  will 
never  think  of  it,  except  when  you  have  news.  And  we 
do  not  know  yet,"  he  added  :  "he  may  be  dead." 

The  manner  of  his  saying  this  convinced  me  thor- 
oughly of  what  I  had  scarce  ventured  to  suspect :  that 
so  far  from  suffering  any  penitence  for  the  attempt,  he 
did  but  lament  his  failure.  This  was  a  discovery  I  kept 
to  myself,  fearing  it  might  do  liim  a  2:)rejudice  with  his 
wife.  But  I  might  have  saved  myself  the  trouble  ;  she 
had   divined   it  for  herself,   and  found  the  sentiment 


THE    master's    second    ABSENCE.  175 

quite  natural.  Indeed  I  could  not  but  say  that  there 
were  three  of  us  all  of  the  same  mind  ;  nor  could  any 
news  have  reached  Durrisdeer  more  generally  welcome 
than  tidings  of  the  Master's  death. 

This  brings  me  to  speak  of  the  exception,  my  old  lord. 
As  soon  as  my  anxiety  for  my  own  master  began  to  be 
relaxed,  I  was  aware  of  a  change  in  the  old  gentle- 
man, his  father,  that  seemed  to  threaten  mortal  conse- 
quences. 

His  face  was  j^ale  and  swollen  ;  as  he  sat  in  the  chim- 
neyside  with  his  Latin,  he  would  drop  off  sleeping  and 
the  book  roll  in  the  ashes ;  some  days  he  would  drag  his 
foot,  others  stumble  in  speaking.  The  amenity  of  his 
behaviour  appeared  more  extreme  ;  full  of  excuses  for 
the  least  trouble,  very  thoughtful  for  all ;  to  myself,  of 
a  most  flattering  civility.  One  day,  that  he  had  sent  for 
his  lawyer  and  remained  a  long  while  private,  ho  met 
me  as  he  was  crossing  the  hall  with  painful  footsteps, 
and  took  me  kindly  by  the  hand.  "Mr.  Mackellar,'' 
said  he,  "I  have  had  many  occasions  to  set  a  proper 
value  on  your  services  ;  and  to-day,  when  I  recast  my 
will,  I  have  taken  the  freedom  to  name  you  for  one  of 
my  executors.  I  believe  you  bear  love  enough  to  our 
house  to  render  me  this  service."  At  that  very  time, 
he  passed  the  greater  portion  of  his  days  in  slumber, 
from  which  it  was  often  difficult  to  rouse  him  ;  seemed 
to  have  lost  all  count  of  years  and  had  several  times 
(particularly  on  waking)  called  for  his  wife  and  for  an 


176  THE    MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

old  servant  whose  very  gravestone  was  now  green  with 
moss.  If  I  had  heen  pat  to  my  oath,  I  must  have  de- 
clared he  w^as  incapable  of  testing ;  and  yet  there  was 
never  a  will  drawn  more  sensible  in  every  trait,  or 
showing  a  more  excellent  Judgment  both  of  persons  and 
affairs. 

His  dissolution,  though  it  took  not  very  long,  pro- 
ceeded by  infinitesimal  gradations.  His  faculties  de- 
cayed together  steadily  ;  the  power  of  his  limbs  was 
almost  gone,  he  was  extremely  deaf,  his  speech  had  sunk 
into  mere  mumblings  ;  and  yet  to  the  end  he  managed 
to  discover  something  of  his  former  courtesy  and  kind- 
ness, pressing  the  hand  of  any  that  helped  him,  present- 
ing me  with  one  of  his  Latin  books  in  which  he  had 
laboriously  traced  my  name,  and  in  a  thousand  ways 
reminding  us  of  the  greatness  of  that  loss,  which  it 
might  almost  be  said  we  had  already  suffered.  To  the 
end,  the  power  of  articulation  returned  to  him  in  flashes  ; 
it  seemed  he  had  only  forgotten  the  art  of  speech  as  a 
child  forgets  his  lesson,  and  at  times  he  would  call 
some  part  of  it  to  mind.  On  the  last  night  of  his  life, 
he  suddenly  broke  silence  with  these  words  from  Virgil : 
"Gnatique  pratisque,  alma,  precor,  miserere,"  perfectly 
uttered  and  with  a  fitting  accent.  At  tiie  sudden  clear 
sound  of  it,  we  started  from  our  several  occupations  ; 
but  it  was  in  vain  we  turned  to  him  ;  he  sat  there  silent 
and  to  all  appearance  fatuous.  A  little  later,  he  was 
bad  to  bed  with  more  difficulty  than  ever  before  ;  and 


THE   master's   second   ABSENCE.  177 

» 

some  time  in  the  night,  without  any  mortal  violence, 
his  spirit  lied. 

At  a  far  later  period,  I  chanced  to  speak  of  these 
particulars  with  a  doctor  of  medicine,  a  man  of  so  high 
a  reputation  that  I  scruple  to  adduce  his  name.  By  his 
view  of  it,  father  and  son  both  suffered  from  the  same 
affection  :  the  father  from  the  strain  of  his  unnatural 
sorrows,  the  son  j^erhaps  in  the  excitation  of  the  fever, 
each  had  ruptured  a  vessel  on  the  brain  ;  and  there 
was  probably  (my  doctor  added)  some  predisposition 
in  the  family  to  accidents  of  that  description.  The 
father  sank,  the  son  recovered  all  the  externals  of  a 
healthy  man  ;  but  it  is  like  there  was  some  destruction 
in  those  delicate  tissues  where  the  soul  resides  and  does 
her  earthly  business  ;  her  heavenly,  I  would  fain  hope, 
cannot  be  thus  obstructed  by  material  accidents.  And 
yet  upon  a  more  mature  opinion,  it  matters  not  one  jot; 
for  He  who  shall  pass  judgment  on  the  records  of  our 
life  is  the  same  that  formed  us  in  frailty. 

The  death  of  my  old  lord  was  the  occasion  of  a  fresh 
surprise  to  us  who  watched  the  behaviour  of  his  successor. 
To  any  considering  mind,  the  two  sons  had  between 
them  slain  their  father  ;  and  he  who  took  the  sword 
might  be  even  said  to  have  slain  him  with  his  hand. 
But  no  such  thought  appeared  to  trouble  my  new  lord. 
He  was  becomingly  grave  ;  I  could  scarce  say  sorrow- 
ful, or  only  with  a  pleasant  sorrow  ;  talking  of  the  dead 
with  a  regretful  cheerfulness,  relating  old  examples  of 

13 


178  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

his  character,  smiling  at  them  with  a  good  conscience  ; 
and  when  the  day  of  the  funeral  came  round,  doing  the 
honours  with  exact  propriety.  I  could  perceive  besides, 
that  he  found  a  solid  gratification  in  his  accession  to  the 
title  ;  the  which  he  was  punctilious  iu  exacting. 

And  now  there  came  upon  the  scene  a  new  character, 
and  one  that  played  his  part  too  in  the  story  ;  I  mean 
the  present  lord,  Alexander,  whose  birth  (17th  July, 
1757)  filled  the  cup  of  my  poor  master's  happiness. 
There  was  nothing  then  left  him  to  wish  for  ;  nor 
yet  leisure  to  wish  for  it.  Indeed  there  never  was  a 
parent  so  fond  and  doting  as  he  showed  himself.  He 
was  continually  uneasy  in  his  son's  absence.  Was  the 
child  abroad  ?  the  father  would  be  watching  the  clouds 
in  case  it  rained.  Was  it  night  ?  he  would  rise  out  of 
his  bed  to  observe  its  slumbers.  His  conversation  grew 
even  wearyful  to  strangers,  since  he  talked  of  little  but 
his  son.  In  matters  relating  to  the  estate,  all  was 
designed  with  a  particular  eye  to  Alexander  ;  and  it 
would  be  :  — "  Let  us  put  it  in  hand  at  once,  that  the 
wood  may  be  grown  against  Alexander's  majority  ; " 
or  "this  will  fall  in  again  handsomely  for  Alexander's 
marriage."  Every  day  this  absorption  of  the  man's 
nature  became  more  observable,  with  many  touching 
and  some  very  blameworthy  particulars.  Soon  the  child 
could  walk  abroad  with  him,  at  first  on  the  terrace  hand 
in  hand,  and  afterward  at  large  about  the  policies  ;  and 


THE    master's   second   ABSENCE.  170 

this  grew  to  be  my  lord's  chief  occupation.  The  sound 
of  their  two  voices  (audible  a  great  way  off,  for  they 
spoke  loud)  became  familiar  in  the  neighbourhood;  and 
for  my  part  I  found  it  more  agreeable  than  the  sound 
of  birds.  It  was  pretty  to  see  the  pair  returning,  full 
of  briars,  and  the  father  as  flushed  and  sometimes  as 
bemuddied  as  the  child :  for  they  were  equal  sharers  in 
all  sorts  of  boyish  entertainment,  digging  in  the  beach, 
damming  of  streams,  and  what  not ;  and  I  have  seen 
them  gaze  through  a  fence  at  cattle  with  the  same  child- 
ish contemplation. 

The  mention  of  these  rambles  brings  me  to  a  strange 
scene  of  which  I  was  a  witness.  There  was  one  walk 
I  never  followed  myself  without  emotion,  so  often  had 
I  gone  there  upon  miserable  errands,  so  much  had 
there  befallen  against  the  house  of  Durrisdeer.  But 
the  path  lay  handy  from  all  points  beyond  the  Mucklo 
Eoss;  and  I  was  driven,  although  much  against  my  will, 
to  take  my  use  of  it  perhaps  once  in  the  two  months.  It 
befell  when  Mr.  Alexander  was  of  the  age  of  seven  or 
eight,  I  had  some  business  on  the  far  side  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  entered  the  shrubbery  on  my  homeward  way, 
about  nine  of  a  bright  forenoon.  It  was  that  time  of 
year  when  the  woods  are  all  in  their  spring  colours,  the 
thorns  all  in  flower,  and  the  birds  in  the  high  season 
of  their  singing.  In  contrast  to  this  m.srriment,  the 
shrubbery  was  only  the  more  sad  and  I  the  more 
oppressed  by  its  associations.    In  this  situation  of  spirit, 


180  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

it  straclv  rac  disagreeably  to  hear  voices  a  little  way  in 
front,  and  to  recognize  the  tones  of  my  lord  and  Mr. 
Alexander.  I  pushed  ahead,  and  came  presently  into 
their  view.  They  stood  together  in  the  open  space 
where  the  duel  was,  my  lord  with  his  hand  on  his  son's 
shoulder  and  speaking  with  some  gravity.  At  least,  as 
he  raised  his  head  npon  my  coming,  I  thought  I  could 
perceive  his  countenance  to  lighten. 

"Ah,"  says  he,  ''here  comes  the  good  Mackellar.  I 
have  just  been  telling  Sandie  the  story  of  tlus  place,  and 
how  there  was  a  man  whom  the  devil  tried  to  kill,  and 
how  near  he  came  to  kill  the  devil  instead."' 

I  had  thought  it  strange  enough  he  should  bring  the 
child  into  that  scene ;  that  he  should  actually  be  dis- 
coursing of  his  act,  passed  measure.  But  the  worst  was 
yet  to  come  ;  for  he  added^  turning  to  his  son  :  '"'  You 
can  ask  Mackellar;  he  was  here  and  saw  it." 

"  Is  it  true,  Mr.  Mackellar  ?  "  asked  the  child.  "  And 
did  you  really  see  the  devil  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  heard  the  tale,"  I  replied  ;  ''  and  I  am  in  a 
j^ress  of  business."  So  far  I  said  a  little  sourly,  fencing 
with  the  embarrassment  of  the  position;  and  suddenly 
the  bitterness  of  the  past  and  the  terror  of  that  scene  by 
candlelight  rushed  in  upon  my  mind  ;  I  bethought  me 
that,  for  a  difference  of  a  second's  quickness  in  parade, 
the  child  before  me  might  have  never  seen  the  day  ;  and 
the  emotion  that  alwa^'s  fluttered  round  my  heart  in 
that  dark   shrubbery  burst   forth  in  words.     ''But   so 


THE    MASTEU'S   SECOND   ABSENCE.  181 

much  is  true/'  I  cried,  ''that  I  have  met  the  devil  in 
these  woods  and  seen  him  foiled  here ;  blessed  be  God 
that  we  escaped  with  life — blessed  be  God  that  one  stone 
yet  stands  upon  another  in  the  walls  of  Durrisdeer  ! 
and  0,  Mr.  Alexander,  if  ever  you  come  by  this  spot, 
though  it  was  a  hundred  years  hence  and  you  came 
with  the  gayest  and  the  highest  in  the  land,  I  would 
step  aside  and  remember  a  bit  prayer." 

My  lord  bowed  his  head  gravely.  ''Ah,''  says  he, 
"Mackellaris  always  in  the  right.  Come,  Alexander, 
take  your  bonnet  off."  And  with  that  he  uncovered  and 
held  out  his  hand.  "  0  Lord,"  said  he,  "  I  thank  thee, 
and  my  son  thanks  thee,  for  thy  manifold  great  mercies. 
Let  us  have  peace  for  a  little  ;  defend  ns  from  the  evil 
man.  Smite  him,  0  Lord,  upon  the  lying  mouth!" 
The  last  broke  out  of  him  like  a  cry  ;  and  at  that, 
whether  remembered  anger  choked  his  utterance,  or 
whether  he  perceived  this  was  a  singular  sort  of  prayer, 
at  least  he  came  suddenly  to  a  full  stop ;  and  after  a 
moment,  set  back  his  hat  upon  his  head. 

"I  think  you  have  forgot  a  word,  my  lord,"  said  L 
"Forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we  forgive  them  that  tres- 
pass against  us.  For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the 
power,  and  the  glory,  for  ever  and  ever.    Amen." 

"Ah,  that  is  easy  saying,"  said  my  lord.  "That  is 
very  easy  saying,  Mackellar.  But  for  me  to  forgive  ? — I 
think  I  would  cut  a  very  sill^  figure,  if  I  had  the  affec- 
tation to  pretend  it." 


182  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLANTRAE. 

"The  bairn,  my  lord,"  said  I  with,  some  severity,  for 
I  thought  his  expressions  little  fitted  for  the  ears  of 
children. 

*'Wby,  very  true,"  said  he.  **This  is  dull  work  for 
a  bairn.     Let's  go  nesting." 

I  forget  if  it  was  the  same  day,  but  it  was  soon  after, 
my  lord,  finding  me  alone,  opened  himself  a  little  more 
on  the  same  head. 

"  Mackellar,"  he  said,  "I  am  now  a  very  happy 
man." 

"■  1  think  so  indeed,  my  lord,"  said  I,  "  and  the  sight 
of  it  gives  me  a  light  heart." 

"  There  is  an  obligation  in  happiness,  do  you  not  think 
so  ?  "  says  he,  musingly. 

"I  think  so  indeed,"  says  I,  "and  one  in  sorrow  too. 
If  we  are  not  here  to  try  to  do  the  best,  in  my  luimble 
opinion,  the  sooner  we  are  away  the  better  for  all  par- 
ties." 

"  Ay,  but  if  you  were  in  my  shoes,  would  you  forgive 
him  ?  "  asks  my  lord. 

The  suddenness  of  the  attack  a  little  gravelled  me. 
"  It  is  a  duty  laid  upon  us  strictly,"  said  I. 

"  Hut  ! "  said  he.  "  These  are  expressions  !  Do  you 
forgive  the  man  yourself  ?  " 

"  Well — no  !  "  said  I.     "  God  forgive  me,  I  do  not." 

"  Shake  hands  upon  that ! "  cries  my  lord,  with  a  kind 
of  jovial  ty. 

"It  is  an  ill  sentiment  to  shake  hands  upon,"  said  L 


THE    master's   second   ABSENCE.  183 

*'  for  christian  people.     I  think  I  will  give  you  mine  on 
some  more  evangelical  occasion." 

This  I  said  smiling  a  little  ;  but  as  for  my  lord,  lie 
went  from  tlie  room  laughing  aloud. 

For  my  lord's  slavery  to  the  child,  I  can  find  no 
expression  adequate.  He  lost  himself  in  that  continual 
thought  :  business,  friends  and  wife  being  all  alike  for- 
gotten or  only  remembered  with  a  painful  eifort,  like 
that  of  one  struggling  with  a  posset.  It  was  most  nota- 
ble in  the  matter  of  his  wife.  Since  I  had  known  Dur- 
risdeer,  she  had  been  the  burthen  of  his  thought  and  the 
loadstone  of  his  eyes  ;  and  now,  she  was  quite  cast  out. 
I  have  seen  him  come  to  the  door  of  a  room,  look  round, 
and  pass  my  lady  over  as  though  she  were  a  dog  before 
the  fire  : — it  would  be  Alexander  he  was  seeking,  and  my 
lady  knew  it  well.  I  have  heard  him  speak  to  her  so 
ruggedly,  that  I  nearly  found  it  in  my  heart  to  intj3r- 
vene  :  the  cause  would  still  be  the  same,  that  she  had  in 
some  way  thwarted  Alexander.  Without  doubt  this  was 
in  the  nature  of  a  judgment  on  my  lady.  Without 
doubt  she  had  the  tables  turned  upon  her  as  only  prov- 
idence can  do  it  ;  she  who  had  been  cold  so  many  years 
to  every  mark  of  tenderness,  it  was  her  part  now  to  be 
neglected  :  the  more  praise  to  her  that  she  played  it 
well. 

An  odd  situatioH  resulted  :  that  we  had  once  more 
two  parties  in  the   house,  and  that   now  I  was   of  my 


184  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

lady's.  Not  that  ever  I  lost  the  love  I  bore  my  mas- 
ter. But  for  one  thing,  he  had  the  less  use  for  my 
society.  For  another,  I  could  not  but  compare  the  case 
of  Mr.  Alexander  with  that  of  Miss  Katharine  ;  for 
whom  my  lord  had  never  found  the  least  attention. 
And  for  a  third,  I  was  wounded  by  the  change  he  dis- 
covered to  his  wife,  which  struck  me  in  the  nature  of 
an  infidelity.  I  could  not  but  admire  besides  the  con- 
stancy and  kindness  she  displayed.  Perhaps  her  senti- 
ment to  my  lord,  as  it  had  been  founded  from  the  first 
in  pity,  was  that  rather  of  a  mother  than  a  wife  ;  per- 
haps it  pleased  her  (if  I  may  so  say)  to  behold  her  two 
children  so  happy  in  each  other  :  the  more  as  one  had 
suffered  so  unjustly  in  the  past.  But  for  all  that,  and 
though  I  could  never  trace  in  her  one  spark  of  jealousy, 
she  must  fall  back  for  society  on  poor,  neglected  Miss 
Katharine  ;  and  I,  on  my  part,  came  to  pass  my  spare 
hours  more  and  more  with  the  mother  and  daughter. 
It  would  be  easy  to  make  too  much  of  this  division,  for 
it  was  a  pleasant  family  as  families  go  ;  still  the  thing 
existed  ;  whether  my  lord  knew  it  or  not,  lam  in  doubt, 
I  do  not  think  he  did,  he  was  bound  up  so  entirely  in 
his  son  ;  but  the  rest  of  us  knew  it  and  (in  a  manner) 
suffered  from  the  knowledge. 

What  troubled  us  most,  however,  was  the  great  and 
gi:owing  danger  to  the  child.  My  lord  was  his  father 
over  again  ;  it  was  to  be  feared  the  son  would  ])rove  a 
second  Master.     Time  has  proved  these  fears  to  have 


THE   master's   second   ABSENCE.  185 

been  quite  exaggerate.  Certainly  there  is  no  more 
worthy  gentleman  to-day  in  Scotland  than  the  seventh 
Lord  Durrisdeer.  Of  my  own  exodus  from  his  employ- 
ment, it  does  not  become  me  to  speak,  above  all  in  a 
memorandum  written  only  to  justify  his  father.     .     .     . 

[Editor^ s  Note.  Five  pages  of  Mr.  Mackellar^s  MS. 
are  here  omitted.  I  have  gathered  from  their  perusal 
an  impression  that  Mr.  Mackellar^  in  his  old  age,  was 
rather  an  exacting  servant.  Against  the  seventh  Lord 
Durrisdeer  [ivith  whom,  at  any  rate,  tve  have  no  concern) 
nothing  material  is  alleged. — R.  L.  <6'.] 

,  .  .  But  our  fear  at  the  time  was  lest  he  should 
turn  out,  in  the  person  of  his  son,  a  second  edition  of  his 
brother.  My  lady  had  tried  to  interject  some  whole- 
some discipline  ;  she  had  been  glad  to  give  that  up,  and 
now  looked  on  with  secret  dismay  ;  sometimes  she  even 
spoke  of  it  by  hints  ;  and  sometimes  when  there  was 
brought  to  her  knowledge  some  monstrous  instance  of 
my  lord's  indulgence,  she  would  betray  herself  in  a  ges- 
ture or  perhaps  an  exclamation.  As  for  myself,  I  was 
haunted  by  the  thought  both  day  and  night :  not  so 
much  for  the  child's  sake  as  for  the  father's.  The  man 
had  gone  to  sleep,  he  was  dreaming  a  dream,  and  any 
rough  wakening  must  infallibly  prove  mortal.  That  he 
should  survive  its  death  was  inconceivable ;  and  the  fear 
of  its  dishonour  made  me  cover  my  face. 

It  was  this  continual  preoccupation  that  screwed  me 


186        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

up  at  last  to  a  remonstrance  :  a  matter  worthy  to  be 
narrated  in  detail.  My  lord  and  I  sat  one  day  at  the 
same  table  upon  some  tedious  business  of  detail ;  I 
have  said  that  he  had  lost  his  former  interest  in  such 
occupations  ;  he  was  plainly  itching  to  bo  gone,  and 
he  looked  fretful,  weary  and  methought  older  than  I 
liad  ever  previously  observed.  I  suppose  it  was  the 
haggard  face  that  put  me  suddenly  upon  my  enter- 
prise. 

"My  lord,"  said  I,  with  my  head  down,  and  feigning 
to  continue  my  occupation — *'  or  rather  let  me  call  you 
again  by  the  name  of  Mr.  Henry,  for  I  fear  your  anger 
and  want  you  to  think  upon  old  times " 

"  My  good  Mackellar  ! "  said  he  ;  and  that  in  tones  so 
kindly  that  I  had  near  forsook  my  purpose.  But  I  called 
to  mind  that  I  was  speaking  for  his  good,  and  stuck  to 
my  colours. 

"Has  it  never  come  in  uiJon  your  mind  what  you  are 
doing  ?  "  I  asked. 

"What  I  am  doing?"  he  repeated,  "I  was  never 
good  at  guessing  riddles." 

"What  you  are  doing  with  your  son,"  said  I. 

"Well,"  said  he,  with  some  defiance  in  his  tone,  "and 
what  am  I  doing  with  my  son  ?  " 

"Your  father  was  a  very  good  man,"  says  I,  straying 
from  the  direct  path.  "  But  do  you  think  he  was  a  wise 
father?" 

There  was  a  pause  before  he  spoke,  and  then  :  "  I  say 


THE   master's   second   ABSENCE.  187 

nothing  against  him,"'  he  replied.  "I  had  the  most 
cause  perhaps  ;  but  I  say  nothing." 

"Why,  there  it  is,"  said  I.  "You  had  the  cause  at 
least.  And  yet  your  father  was  a  good  man  ;  I  never 
knew  a  better,  save  on  tlie  one  point,  nor  yet  a  wiser. 
Where  he  stumbled,  it  is  highly  possible  another  man 
should  fall.     He  had  the  two  sons " 

My  lord  rapped  suddenly  and  violently  on  the  table. 

"  What  is  this  ?"  cried  he.     "  Speak  out !  " 

"I  will,  then,"  said  I,  my  voice  almost  strangled  with 
the  thumping  of  my  heart.  "  If  you  continue  to  indulge 
Mr.  Alexander,  you  are  following  in  your  father's  foot- 
steps :  Beware,  my  lord,  lest  (when  he  grows  up)  your 
son  should  follow  in  the  Master's." 

I  had  never  meant  to  put  the  thing  so  crudely  ;  but  in 
the  extreme  of  fear,  there  comes  a  brutal  kind  of  cour- 
age, the  most  brutal  indeed  of  all  ;  and  I  burnt  my  ships 
with  that  plain  word.  I  never  had  the  answer.  When 
I  lifted  my  head,  my  lord  had  risen  to  his  feet,  and  the 
next  moment  he  fell  heavily  on  the  floor.  The  fit  or 
seizure  endured  not  very  long ;  he  came  to  himself 
vacantly,  put  his  hand  to  his  head  which  I  was  then 
supporting,  and  says  he,  in  a  broken  voice  :  "  I  have 
been  ill,"  and  a  little  after:  "Help  me."  I  got  him 
to  his  feet,  and  he  stood  pretty  well,  though  he  kept 
hold  of  the  table.  "  I  have  been  ill,  Mackellar,"  he 
said  again.  "  Something  broke,  Mackellar — or  was 
going  to  break,  and  then  all  swam  away.     1  think  I  was 


188  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

very  angry.  Never  you  mind,  Mackellar,  never  you 
niiucl,  my  man.  I  wouldnae  hurt  a  hair  upon  your 
head.  Too  much  has  come  and  gone.  It's  a  certain 
thing  between  us  two.  But  I  think,  Mackellar,  I  will 
go  to  Mrs.  Henry — I  think  I  will  go  to  Mrs.  Henry," 
said  he,  and  got  pretty  steadily  from  the  room,  leaving 
me  overcome  with  penitence. 

Presently  the  door  flew  open,  and  my  lady  swept  in 
with  flashing  eyes.  *'What  is  all  this?"  she  cried. 
*'  What  have  you  done  to  my  husband  ?  Will  nothing 
teach  you  your  position  in  this  house  ?  Will  you  never 
cease  from  making  and  meddling?" 

"  My  lady,"  said  I,  "  since  I  have  been  in  this  house, 
I  have  had  plenty  of  hard  words.  For  a  while  they  were 
my  daily  diet,  and  I  swallowed  them  all.  As  for  to-day, 
you  may  call  me  what  you  please;  you  will  never  find 
the  name  hard  enough  for  such  a  blunder.  And  yet  I 
meant  it  for  the  best." 

I  told  her  all  with  ingenuity,  even  as  it  is  written 
here  ;  and  when  she  had  heard  me  out,  she  2:)ondered, 
and  I  could  see  her  animosity  fall.  "Yes,"  she  said, 
**you  meant  well  indeed.  I  have  had  the  same  thought 
myself,  or  the  same  temptation  rather,  which  makes 
me  pardon  you.  But,  dear  God,  can  you  not  under- 
stand that  he  can  bear  no  more  ?  He  can  bear  no 
moi*e  !"  she  cried.  "  The  cord  is  stretched  to  snapping. 
What  matters  the  future,  if  he  have  one  or  two  good 
days  ?  " 


THE   MASTER'S   SECOND   ABSENCE.  189 

"Amen,"  said  I.  "I  will  meddle  no  more.  I  am 
pleased  enough  thai  you  sboukl  recognize  tiie  kindness 
of  my  meaning." 

"Yes,"  said  my  lady,  "  but  when  it  came  to  the  point, 
I  have  to  suppose  your  courage  failed  you  ;  for  what  you 
said  was  said  cruelly."  She  paused,  looking  at  me; 
then  suddenly  smiled  a  little,  and  said  a  singular  thing  : 
"  Do  you  know  what  you  are,  Mr.  Mackellar  ?  You  are 
an  old  maid." 

No  more  incident  of  any  note  occurred  in  the  family 
until  the  return  of  that  ill-starred  man,  the  Master. 
But  I  have  to  place  here  a  second  extract  from  the 
memoirs  of  Chevalier  Burke,  interesting  in  itself  and 
highly  necessary  for  my  purpose.  It  is  our  only  sight 
of  the  Master  on  his  Indian  travels  ;  and  the  first  word 
in  these  pages  of  Secundra  Dass.  One  fact,  it  is  to 
observe,  appears  here  very  clearly,  which  if  we  had 
known  some  twenty  years  ago,  how  many  calamities  and 
sorrows  had  been  spared  !— that  Secundra  Dass  spoke 
Enoflish. 


ADVENTURE  OF 
CHEVALIER  BURKE  IN   INDIA. 

(Extracted  from  his  Memoirs.) 

Here  was  I,  tberefore,  on  the  streets  of  that 
city,  the  name  of  which  I  cannot  call  to  mind,  while 
even  then  I  was  so  ill  acquainted  with  its  situation  that 
I  knew  not  vrhcthcr  to  go  south  or  north.  The  alert 
being  sudden,  I  had  run  forth  without  shoes  or  stock- 
ings ;  my  hat  had  been  struck  from  my  head  in  the 
mellay ;  my  kit  was  in  the  hands  of  the  English  ;  I  had 
no  companion  but  the  cipaye,  no  weapon  but  my  sword, 
and  the  devil  a  coin  in  my  pocket.  In  short  I  vv'as  for 
all  the  world  like  one  of  those  calendars  with  whom  Mr. 
Galland  has  made  us  acquainted  in  his  elegant  tales. 
These  gentlemen,  you  will  remember,  were  forever  fall- 
ing in  with  extraordinary  incidents ;  and  I  was  myself 
upon  the  brink  of  one  so  astonishing  that  I  protest  I 
cannot  explain  it  to  this  day. 

The  cipaye  was  a  very  honest  man,  he  had  served 
many  years  with  the  French  colours,  and  wonld  have  let 
himself  be  cut  to  pieces  for  any  of  the  brave  country- 
men of  Mr.  Lally.  It  is  the  same  fellow  (his  name  has 
quite  escaped  me)  of  whom  I  have  narrated  already  a 


ADVENTURE  OF  CHEVALIER  BURKE.      191 

surprising  instance  of  generosity  of  mind  :  when  he 
found  Mr.  de  Fessac  and  m3"self  upon  the  ramparts, 
entirely  overcome  with  liquor,  and  covered  us  with 
straw  while  the  commandant  was  passing  by.  I  con- 
sulted him  therefore  with  perfect  freedom.  It  was  a 
fine  question  what  to  do ;  but  we  decided  at  last  to  esca- 
lade a  garden  wall,  where  we  could  certainly  sleep  in  the 
shadow  of  the  trees,  and  might  perhaps  find  an  occa- 
sion to  get  hold  of  a  pair  of  slippers  and  a  turban.  In 
that  part  of  the  city  we  had  only  the  difficulty  of  the 
choice,  for  it  was  a  quarter  consisting  entirely  of  walled 
gardens,  and  the  lanes  which  divided  them  were  at  that 
hour  of  tlic  night  deserted.  I  gave  the  cipaye  a  back, 
and  we  had  soon  droj^ped  into  a  large  enclosure  full  of 
trees.  The  place  was  soaking  with  the  dew  which,  in 
that  country,  is  exceedingly  unwholesome,  above  all  to 
whites  ;  yet  my  fatigue  was  so  extreme  that  I  was 
already  half  asleep,  when  the  cipaye  recalled  me  to  my 
senses.  In  the  far  end  of  the  enclosure  a  bright  light 
had  suddenly  shone  out,  and  continued  to  burn  steadily 
among  the  leaves.  It  was  a  circumstance  highly  unu- 
sual in  such  a  ])\ace  and  hour ;  and  in  our  situation,  it 
behoved  us  to  proceed  with  some  timidity.  The  cipaye 
was  sent  to  reconnoitre,  and  pretty  soon  returned  with 
the  intelligence  that  we  had  fallen  extremely  amiss,  for 
the  house  belonged  to  a  white  man  who  was  in  all  like- 
lihood English. 

"  Faith,"  says  I,  "  if  there  is  a  white  man  to  be  seen. 


192        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

I  will  have  a  look  at  him  ;  for  the  Lord  be  praised  ! 
there  arc  more  sorts  than  the  one  !  " 

The  cipaye  led  me  forward  accordingly  to  a  place 
from  which  I  had  a  clear  view  upon  the  house.  It  was 
surrounded  with  a  wide  verandah ;  a  lamp,  very  well 
trimmed,  stood  upon  the  floor  of  it ;  and  on  either  side  of 
the  lamp  there  sat  a  man,  cross-legged  after  the  oriental 
manner.  Both,  besides,  were  bundled  u])  in  muslin  like 
two  natives  ;  and  yet  one  of  them  was  not  only  a  white 
man,  but  a  man  very  well  known  to  me  and  the  reader : 
being  indeed  that  very  Master  of  Ballantrae  of  whose 
gallantry  and  genius  I  have  had  to  speak  so  often.  Word 
had  reached  me  that  he  was  come  to  the  Indies  ;  though 
we  had  never  met  at  least  and  I  heard  little  of  his  occu- 
pations. But  sure,  I  had  no  sooner  recognized  him,  and 
found  myself  in  the  arms  of  so  old  a  comrade,  than  I 
supposed  my  tribulations  were  quite  done.  I  stepped 
plainly  forth  into  the  light  of  the  moon,  which  shone 
exceeding  strong,  and  hailing  Ballantrae  by  name, 
made  him  in  a  few  words  master  of  my  grievous  situa- 
tion. He  turned,  started  the  least  thing  in  the  world, 
looked  me  fair  in  the  face  while  I  was  speaking,  and 
when  I  had  done,  addressed  himself  to  his  companion  in 
the  barbarous  native  dialect.  The  second  person,  who 
was  of  an  extraordinary  delicate  appearance,  Avith  legs 
like  walking  canes  and  fingers  like  the  stalk  of  a  tobacco 
pipe  *  now  rose  to  his  feet. 

*Iiote  hy  Mr.  MackeUar.— Plainly  Secundra  Dass.     E.  McK. 


ADVENTURE  OF  CHEVALIER  BURKE.      193 

''^The  Sahib,"  says  he,  "understands  no  Englisli 
language.  I  understand  it  myself,  and  I  see  you  make 
some  small  mistake — 0,  which  may  happen  very  often  ! 
But  the  Sahib  would  be  glad  to  know  how  you  come  in 
a  garden.'' 

" Ballantrae ! "  I  cried.  "Have  you  the  damned 
imijudence  to  deny  me  to  my  face  ?  " 

Ballantrae  never  moved  a  muscle,  staring  at  me  like 
an  image  in  a  pagoda. 

"The  Sahib  understands  no  English  language,"  says 
the  native,  as  glib  as  before.  "lie  be  glad  to  know  how 
you  come  in  a  garden." 

"  0,  the  divil  fetch  him  I "  says  I.  "  He  would  be 
glad  to  know  how  I  come  in  a  garden,  would  he  ?  Well 
now,  my  dear  man,  just  have  the  civility  to  tell  the 
Sahib,  with  my  kind  love,  that  we  are  two  soldiers  here 
whom  he  never  met  and  never  heard  of,  but  the  cipaye 
is  a  broth  of  a  boy,  and  I  am  a  broth  of  a  boy  myself ; 
and  if  we  don't  get  a  full  meal  of  meat,  and  a  turban,  and 
slippers,  and  the  value  of  a  gold  mohur  in  small  change 
as  a  matter  of  convenience,  bedad,  my  friend,  I  could 
lay  my  finger  on  a  garden  where  there  is  going  to  be 
trouble. " 

They  carried  their  comedy  so  far  as  to  converse  a  while 
in  Hindustanee ;  and  then,  says  the  Hindu,  with  the 
same  smile,  but  sighing  as  if  he  were  tired  of  the  repeti- 
tion. "  The  Sahib  would  be  glad  to  know  how  you 
come  in  a  garden." 
13 


194  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

*'Is  that  the  way  of  it  ?  "  saj'S  I,  and  laying  my  hand 
on  my  sword-hilt,  I  bade  the  cipaye  draw. 

Ballantrae's  Hindu,  still  smiling,  pulled  out  a  pistol 
from  his  bosom,  and  though  Ballantrae  liimself  never 
moved  a  muscle,  I  knew  him  well  enough  to  be  sure  he 
was  prepared. 

"  The  Sahib  thinks  you  better  go  away,"  says  the 
Hindu. 

Well,  to  be  plain,  it  was  what  I  was  thinking  myself; 
for  the  report  of  a  pistol  would  have  been,  under  jDrovi- 
dence,  the  means  of  hanging  the  pair  of  us. 

"Tell  the  Sahib,  I  consider  him  no  gentleman,"  says 
I,  and  turned  away  with  a  gesture  of  contempt. 

1  was  not  gone  three  steps  when  the  voice  of  the 
Hindu  called  me  back.  "The  Sahib  would  be  glad  to 
know  if  you  are  a  dam,  low  Irishman,"  says  he  ;  and  at 
the  words  Ballantrae  smiled  and  bowed  very  low. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  says  L 

**The  Sahib  say  you  ask  your  friend  Mackellar,"  says 
the  Hindu.     "The  Sahib  he  cry  quits." 

"Tell  the  Sahib  I  will  give  him  a  cure  for  the  Scots 
fiddle  when  nest  we  meet,"  cried  I, 

The  pair  were  still  smiling  as  I  left. 

There  is  little  doubt  some  flaws  may  be  picked  in 
my  own  behaviour  ;  and  when  a  man,  however  gallant, 
appeals  to  posterity  with  an  account  of  his  exploits,  he 
must  almost  certainly  expect  to  share  the  fate  of  Caesar 
and  Alexander,  and  to  meet  with  some  detractors.     But 


ADVENTURE  OF  CHEVALIER  BURKE.      195 

there  is  one  thing  that  can  never  be  laid  at  the  door 
of  Francis  Burke  :  he  never  turned  his  back  on  a 
friend.     .     .     . 

(Here  follows  a  passage  which  the  Chevalier  Burke 
has  been  at  the  pains  to  delete  before  sending  me  his 
manuscript.  Doubtless  it  was  some  very  natural  com- 
plaint of  what  he  supposed  to  be  an  indiscretion  on  my 
part ;  though  indeed,  I  can  call  none  to  mind.  Perhaps 
Mr.  Henry  was  less  guarded  ;  or  it  is  just  possible  the 
Master  found  the  means  to  examine  my  correspondence, 
and  himself  read  the  letter  from  Troyes  :  in  revenge  for 
which  this  cruel  jest  was  perpetrated  on  Mr.  Burke  in 
his  extreme  necessity.  The  Master,  for  all  his  wicked- 
ness, was  not  without  some  natural  affection  ;  I  believe 
he  was  sincerely  attached  to  Mr,  Burke  in  the  begin- 
ning ;  but  the  thought  of  treachery  dried  up  the  springs 
of  his  very  shallow  friendship,  and  his  detestable  nature 
appeared  naked. — E.  McK.) 


THE  ENEMY  IK  THE   HOUSE. 

It  is  a  strange  thing  that  I  should  be  at  a  stick  for  a 
date, — the  date,  besides,  of  an  incident  that  changed  the 
very  nature  of  my  life,  and  sent  us  all  into  foreign  lands. 
But  the  truth  is  I  was  stricken  out  of  all  my  habitudes, 
and  find  my  journals  very  ill  redd-up,*  the  day  not 
indicated  sometimes  for  a  week  or  two  together,  and 
the  whole  fashion  of  the  thing  like  that  of  a  man  near 
desperate.  It  was  late  in  March  at  least,  or  early  in 
April,  1764.  I  had  slept  heavily  and  wakened  with  a 
premonition  of  some  evil  to  befall.  So  strong  was  this 
upon  my  spirit,  that  I  hurried  downstairs  in  my  shirt 
and  breeches,  and  my  hand  (I  remember)  shook  upon  the 
rail.  It  was  a  cold,  sunny  morning  with  a  thick  white 
frost ;  the  blackbirds  sang  exceeding  sweet  and  loud 
about  the  house  of  Durrisdeer,  and  there  was  a  noise  of 
the  sea  in  all  the  chambers.  As  I  came  by  the  doors 
of  the  hall,  another  sound  arrested  me,  of  voices  talking. 
I  drew  nearer  and  stood  like  a  man  dreaming.  Here 
was  certainly  a  human  voice,  and  that  in  my  own  mas- 
ter's house,  and  yet  I  knew  it  not ;   certainly  human 

*  Ordered. 


THE   ENEMY   IN   THE   HOUSE.  197 

speech,  and  that  in  my  native  land  ;  and  yet  listen  as  I 
pleased,  I  could  not  catch  one  syllable.  An  old  tale 
started  up  in  my  mind  of  a  fairy  wife  (or  perhaps  only 
a  wandering  stranger),  that  came  to  the  place  of  my 
fathers  some  generations  back,  and  stayed  the  matter  of 
a  week,  talking  often  in  a  tongue  that  signified  nothing 
to  the  hearers  ;  and  went  again  as  she  had  come,  under 
cloud  of  night,  leaving  not  so  much  as  a  name  behind, 
her.  A  little  fear  I  had,  but  more  curiosity ;  and  I 
opened  the  hall  door,  and  entered. 

The  supper  things  still  lay  upon  the  table  ;  the  shut- 
ters were  still  closed,  although  day  peeped  in  the  divi- 
sions ;  and  the  great  room  was  lighted  only  with  a  single 
taper  and  some  lurching  reverberation  of  the  fire.  Close 
in  the  chimney  sat  two  men.  The  one  that  was  wrapped 
in  a  cloak  and  wore  boots,  I  knew  at  once  :  it  was  the 
bird  of  ill  omen  back  again.  Of  the  other,  who  was 
set  close  to  the  red  embers,  and  made  up  into  a  bundle 
like  a  mummy,  I  could  but  see  that  he  was  an  alien,  of 
a  darker  hue  than  any  man  of  Europe,  very  frailly  built, 
with  a  singular  tall  forehead,  and  a  secret  eye.  Several 
bundles  and  a  small  valise  were  on  the  floor  ;  and  to 
Judge  by  the  smallness  of  this  luggage,  and  by  the  con- 
dition of  the  Master's  boots,  grossly  patched  by  some 
unscrupulous  country  cobbler,  evil  had  not  prospered. 

He  rose  upon  my  entrance  ;  our  eyes  crossed  ;  and  I 
know  not  why  it  should  have  been,  but  my  courage  rose 
like  a  lark  on  a  May  morning. 


198  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

*'Ha!"  said  I,  *'is  this  you  ?" — and  I  was  pleased 
with  the  unconcern  of  my  own  voice. 

"  It  is  even  myself ,  worthy  Mackellar,"  says  the  Master. 

*'  This  time  you  have  brought  the  black  dog  visibly 
upon  your  back,"  I  continued. 

"Keferring  to  Secundra  Dass  ?  "  asked  the  Master. 
**  Let  me  present  j'ou.  He  is  a  native  gentleman  of 
India." 

"Hum!"  said  I.  "I  am  no  great  lover  either  of 
you  or  your  friends,  Mr.  Bally.  But  I  will  let  a  little 
daylight  in  and  have  a  look  at  you."  And  so  saying, 
I  undid  the  shutters  of  the  eastern  window. 

By  the  light  of  the  morning,  I  could  perceive  the  man 
was  changed.  Later,  when  we  were  all  together,  I  was 
more  struck  to  see  how  lightly  time  had  dealt  with  him  ; 
but  the  first  glance  was  otherwise. 

"  You  are  getting  an  old  man,"  said  I. 

A  shade  came  upon  his  face.  "  If  you  could  see  your- 
self," said  he,  "you  would  perhaps  not  dwell  upon  the 
topic." 

"Hut  !"  I  returned,  "old  age  is  nothing  tome.  I 
think  I  have  been  always  old  ;  and  I  am  now,  I  thank 
God,  better  known  and  more  respected.  It  is  not  every 
one  that  can  say  that,  Mr.  Bally  !  The  lines  in  yoicr 
brow  are  calamities;  your  life  begins  to  close  in  upon 
you  like  a  prison  ;  death  will  soon  be  rapping  at  the 
door  ;  and  I  see  not  from  what  source  you  are  to  draw 
your  consolations." 


THE   ENEMY   IN   THE   HOUSE.  199 

Here  the  Master  addressed  himself  to  Seciiudra  Dass 
in  Hindiistanee ;  from  whicli  I  gathered  (I  freely  con- 
fess, with  a  high  degree  of  pleasure)  that  my  remarks 
annoyed  him.  All  this  while,  you  may  be  sure,  my 
mind  had  been  busy  upon  other  matters  even  while  I 
rallied  my  enemy  ;  and  chiefly  as  to  how  I  should  com- 
municate secretly  and  quickly  with  my  lord.  To  this, 
in  the  breathing-space  now  given  me,  I  turned  all  the 
forces  of  my  mind  ;  when,  suddenly  shifting  my  eyes,  I 
was  aware  of  the  man  himself  standing  iu  the  doorway, 
and  to  all  appearance  quite  composed.  He  had  no  sooner 
met  my  looks  than  he  stepped  across  the  threshold. 
The  Master  heard  him  coming,  and  advanced  upon  the 
other  side  ;  about  four  feet  apart,  these  brothers  came 
to  a  full  pause  and  stood  exchanging  steady  looks  and 
then  my  lord  smiled,  bowed  a  little  forward,  and  turned 
briskly  away. 

"Mackellar,"  says  he,  "  we  must  see  to  breakfast  for 
these  travellers." 

It  was  plain  the  Master  was  a  trifle  disconcerted  ;  but 
he  assumed  the  more  impudence  of  speech  and  manner. 
*'  I  am  as  hungry  as  a  hawk,"  says  he.  ''  Let  it  be  some- 
thing good,  Henry." 

My  lord  turned  to  him  with  tbe  same  hard  smile. 
''Lord  Durrisdeer,"  says  he. 

'•  Oh,  never  in  the  family  ! "  returned  the  Master. 

"Everyone  in  this  house  renders  me  my  proper  title," 
says  my  lord.     '"If  it  please  you  to  make  an  exception, 


200       THE  MASTER  OF  BALLA_NTRAE. 

I  will  leave  you  to  consider  what  appearance  it  will  bear 
to  strangers,  and  whether  it  may  not  be  translated  as  an 
effect  of  impotent  jealousy." 

I  could  have  clapped  my  hands  together  with  delight : 
the  more  so  as  my  lord  left  no  time  for  any  answer,  but, 
bidding  me  with  a  sign  to  follow  him,  went  straight  out 
of  the  hall. 

"Come  quick,"  says  he,  "we  have  to  sweep  vermin 
from  the  house."  And  he  sped  through  the  passages 
with  so  swift  a  step  that  I  could  scarce  keep  up  with 
him,  straight  to  the  door  of  John  Paul,  the  which  he 
opened  without  summons  and  walked  in.  John  was  to 
all  appearance  sound  asleep,  but  my  lord  made  no  pre- 
tence of  waking  him. 

"John  Paul,"  said  he,  speaking  as  quietly  as  ever  I 
heard  him,  "you  served  my  father  long,  or  I  would 
pack  you  from  the  house  like  a  dog.  If  in  half  an 
hour's  time  I  find  you  gone,  you  shall  continue  to 
receive  your  wages  in  Edinburgh.  If  you  linger  here 
or  in  St.  Bride's — old  man,  old  servant,  and  alto- 
gether— I  shall  find  some  very  astonishing  way  to 
make  you  smart  for  your  disloyalty.  Up,  and  begone. 
The  door  you  let  them  in  by  will  serve  for  your  de- 
parture. I  do  not  choose  my  sou  shall  see  your  face 
again." 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  find  you  bear  the  thing  so  quietly," 
said  I,  when  we  were  forth  again  by  Ourselves. 

"  Quietly ! "   cries   he,  and   jjut   my   hand    suddenly 


THE   ENEMY   IN   THE   HOUSE.  201 

against  his  heart,  which  struck  upon  his  bosom  like  a 
sledge. 

At  this  revelation  I  was  filled  with  wonder  and  fear. 
There  was  no  constitution  could  bear  so  violent  a  strain 
— his  least  of  all,  that  was  unhinged  already  ;  and  I 
decided  in  my  mind  that  we  must  bring  this  monstrous 
situation  to  an  end. 

"  It  would  be  well,  I  think,  if  I  took  word  to  my 
lady,"  said  I.  Indeed,  he  should  have  gone  himself,  but 
I  counted  (not  in  vain)  on  his  indifference. 

'' Aj^e,"  says  he,  "  do.  I  will  hurry  breakfast :  we  must 
all  appear  at  the  table,  even  Alexander  ;  it  must  appear 
we  are  untroubled." 

I  ran  to  my  lady's  room,  and,  with  no  preparatory 
cruelty,  disclosed  my  news. 

"  My  mind  was  long  ago  made  up,"  said  she.  ''  We 
must  make  our  packets  secretly  to-day,  and  leave  secretly 
to-night.  Thank  Heaven,  we  have  another  house  !  The 
first  ship  that  sails  shall  bear  us  to  New  York." 

''  And  what  of  him  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  We  leave  him  Durrisdeer,"  she  cried.  "  Let  him 
work  his  pleasure  upon  that." 

"  Not  so,  by  your  leave,"  said  I.  "  There  shall  be  a 
dog  at  his  heels  that  can  hold  fast.  Bed  he  shall  have, 
and  board,  and  a  horse  to  ride  upon,  if  he  behave  him- 
self ;  but  the  keys  (if  you  think  well  of  it,  my  lady) 
shall  be  left  in  the  hands  of  one  Mackellar.  There  will 
be  good  care  taken  ;  trust  him  for  that." 


202  THE   MASTER  OF   BALLANTRAE. 

"Mr.  Mackellar,"  she  cried,  "1  thank  you  for  that 
thought !  All  shall  be  left  in  your  hands.  If  we  must 
go  into  a  savage  country,  I  bequeath  it  to  you  to  take 
our  vengeance.  Send  Macconochie  to  St.  Bride's,  to 
arrange  privately  for  horses  and  to  call  the  lawyer.  My 
lord  must  leave  procuration." 

At  that  moment  my  lord  came  to  the  door,  and  we 
opened  our  jilan  to  him. 

"  I  will  never  hear  of  it,"  he  cried  ;  ''  he  would  think 
I  feared  him.  I.  will  stay  in  my  own  house,  please  God, 
until  I  die.  There  lives  not  the  man  can  beard  me  out 
of  it.  Once  and  for  all,  here  I  am  and  here  I  stay,  in 
spite  of  all  the  devils  in  hell."  I  can  give  no  idea  of  the 
vehemency  of  his  words  and  utterance  ;  but  we  both 
stood  aghast,  and  I  in  particular,  who  had  been  a  wit- 
ness of  his  former  self-restraint. 

My  lady  looked  at  me  with  an  appeal  that  went  to  my 
heart  and  recalled  me  to  my  wits.  I  made  her  a  private 
sign  to  go,  and,  when  my  lord  and  I  were  alone,  went  up 
to  him  where  he  was  racing  to  and  fro  in  one  end  of  the 
room  like  a  half-lunatic,  and  set  my  hand  firmly  on  his 
shoulder. 

"  My  lord,"  says  I,  "  I  am  going  to  be  the  plain-dealer 
once  more  ;  if  for  the  last  time,  so  much  the  better,  for 
I  am  grown  weary  of  the  part." 

"Nothing  will  change  me,"  he  answered.  "God 
forbid  I  should  refuse  to  hear  you ;  but  nothing 
will    change    me."      This    he    said    firmly,    with    no 


THE   ENEMY   IN   THE   HOUSE.  203 

signal  of  the  former  violence,  which  ah-eady  raised  my 
hopes. 

"Very  well,"  said  I.  ''I  can  afford  to  waste  my 
breath."  I  pointed  to  a  cliair,  and  he  sat  down  and 
looked  at  me.  "  I  can  remember  a  time  when  my  lady 
very  mnch  neglected  yon,"  said  I. 

''I  never  spoke  of  it  while  it  lasted,"  retnrned  my 
lord,  with  a  high  finsh  of  color  ;  "  and  it  is  all  changed 
now." 

*'  Do  you  know  how  much  ?  "  I  said.  "  Do  you  know 
how  mnch  it  is  all  changed  ?  The  tables  are  turned, 
my  lord  !  It  is  my  lady  that  now  courts  you  for  a 
word,  a  look,  ay  and  courts  you  in  vain.  Do  you  know 
with  whom  she  passes  her  days  while  you  are  out  galli- 
vanting in  the  policies  ?  My  lord,  she  is  glad  to  pass 
them  with  a  certain  dry  old  grieve  *  of  the  name  of 
Ephraim  Mackellar ;  and  I  think  you  may  be  able  to 
remember  what  that  moans,  for  I  am  the  more  in  a 
mistake  or  you  were  once  driven  to  the  same  company 
yourself." 

"'  Mackellar  ! "  cries  my  lord,  getting  to  his  feet.  "  0 
my  God,  Mackellar  !  " 

"It  is  neither  the  name  of  Mackellar  nor  the  name  of 
God  that  can  change  the  truth,"  said  I ;  "and  I  am  telling 
you  the  fact.  Now,  for  you,  that  suffered  so  much,  to 
deal  out  the  same  suffering  to  another,  is  that  the  part 
of  any  Christian?  But  you  are  so  swallowed  up  in  youi 
*  Land  steward. 


204  THE   MASTEE  OF  BALLANTRAK 

new  friend  that  the  old  are  all  forgotten.  They  are  all 
clean  vanished  from  your  memory.  And  yet  they  stood 
by  you  at  the  darkest ;  my  lady  not  the  least.  And  does 
my  lady  ever  cross  your  mind  ?  Does  it  ever  cross  your 
mind  what  she  went  througii  that  night  ? — or  what  man- 
ner of  a  wife  she  has  been  to  you  thenceforward  ? — or  in 
what  kind  of  a  position  she  finds  herself  to-day  ?  I^ever. 
It  is  your  pride  to  stay  and  face  him  out,  and  she  must 
stay  along  with  you.  0,  my  lord's  pride — that's  the  great 
aifair  !  And  yet  she  is  the  woman,  and  you  are  a  great, 
hulking  man  !  She  is  the  woman  that  you  swore  to 
protect ;  and,  more  betoken,  the  own  mother  of  that  son 
of  yours  !  " 

*'You  are  speaking  very  bitterly,  Mackellar,"  said  he; 
*'  but,  the  Lord  knows,  I  fear  you  are  speaking  very  true. 
I  have  not  proved  worthy  of  my  happiness.  Bring  my 
lady  back." 

My  lady  wp'  ,'aiting  near  at  hand  to  learn  the  issne. 
"When  I  brought  her  in,  ray  lord  took  a  hand  of  each  of 
us  and  laid  them  both  upon  his  bosom.  "I  have  had 
two  friends  in  my  life,"  said  he.  "All  the  comfort 
ever  I  had,  it  came  from  one  or  other.  When  you  two 
are  in  a  mind,  I  think  I  would  be  an  ungrateful  dog'' — 
He  shut  his  moutli  very  hard,  and  looked  on  us  with 
swimming  eyes.  "Do  what  ye  like  with  me,"  says  he, 
"only  don't  think" —  He  stopped  again.  "Do  what 
ye  please  with  me :  God  knows  I  love  and  honour 
you."     And  dropping  our  two  hands,   he  turned  his 


THE   ENEMY   IN   THE   HOUSE.  205 

back  and  went  and  gazed  out  of  the  window.  But  my 
lady  ran  after,  calling  liis  name,  and  threw  herself 
upon  his  neck  in  a  passion  of  weeping. 

I  went  out  and  shut  the  door  behind  mo,  and  stood 
and  thanked  God  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 

At  the  breakfast  board,  according  to  my  lord's  design, 
we  were  all  met.  The  Master  had  by  that  time  plucked 
off  his  patched  boots  and  made  a  toilet  suitable  to  the 
hour;  Secundra  Dass  was  no  longer  bundled  up  in 
wrappers,  but  wore  a  decent  plain  black  suit,  which 
misbecame  him  strangely  ;  and  the  pair  were  at  the 
great  window  looking  forth,  when  the  family  entered. 
They  turned  ;  and  the  black  man  (as  they  had  already 
named  him  in  the  house)  bowed  almost  to  his  knees,  but 
the  Master  was  for  running  forward  like  one  of  the 
family.  My  lady  stopped  him,  courtcving  low  from  the 
far  end  of  the  hall,  and  keeping  her  J[jildren  at  her 
back.  My  lord  was  a  litble  in  front :  so  there  were 
the  three  cousins  of  Durrisdcer  face  to  face.  The  hand 
of  time  was  very  legible  on  all ;  I  seemed  to  read  in 
their  changed  faces  a  memento  mori  ;  and  what  affected 
me  still  more,  it  was  the  wicked  man  that  bore  his  years 
the  handsomest.  My  lady  was  quite  transfigured  into 
the  matron,  a  becoming  woman  for  the  head  of  a  great 
tableful  of  children  and  dependents.  My  lord  was 
grown  slack  in  his  limbs  ;  he  s'"ooped  ;  he  walked  with 
a  running  motion,  as  though  he  had  learned  again  from 


206  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

Mr.  Alexander;  his  face  was  drawn  ;  it  seemed  a  trifle 
longer  than  of  old  ;  and  it  wore  at  times  a  smile  very 
singularly  mingled,  and  which  (in  my  eyes)  appeared 
both  ])ittcr  and  pathetic.  But  the  Master  still  hore  him- 
self erect,  although  perliaps  with  effort ;  his  brow  barred 
about  the  centre  witli  imperious  lines,  his  mouth  set  as 
for  command.  He  had  all  the  gravity  and  something  of 
the  splendor  of  Satan  in  the  "  Paradise  Lost."  I  could 
not  help  but  see  the  man  with  admiration,  and  was  only 
surprised  that  I  saw  him  with  so  little  fear. 

But  indeed  (as  long  as  we  were  at  the  table)  it  seemed 
as  if  his  authority  were  quite  Tanished  and  his  teeth  all 
drawn.  We  had  known  him  a  magician  that  controlled 
the  elements ;  and  here  he  was,  transformed  into  an 
ordinary  gentleman,  chatting  like  his  neighbors  at  the 
breakfast  board.  For  now  the  father  was  dead,  and  my 
lord  and  lady  reconciled,  in  what  ear  was  he  to  pour  his 
calumnies  ?  It  came  upon  me  in  a  kind  of  vision  how 
hugely  I  had  overrated  the  man's  subtlety.  He  had  his 
malice  still,  he  was  false  as  ever ;  and,  the  occasion  being 
gone  that  made  his  strength,  he  sat  there  impotent ;  he 
was  still  the  viper,  but  now  spent  his  venom  on  a  file. 
Two  more  thoughts  occurred  to  me  while  yet  we  sat 
at  breakfast:  the  first,  that  he  was  abashed— I  had 
almost  said  distressed — to  find  his  wickedness  quite 
unavailing ;  the  second,  that  perhaps  my  lord  was  in 
the  right,  and  wo  did  amiss  to  fly  from  our  dismasted 
enemy.     But  my  poor  master's  leaping  heart  came  in 


THE   ENEMY   IN   THE   HOUSE.  207 

my  mind,  and  I  remembered  it  was  for  liis  life  we  played 
the  coward. 

When  the  meal  was  over,  the  Master  followed  me  to 
my  room,  and,  taking  a  chair  (which  I  had  never  offered 
him),  asked,  me  what  was  to  be  done  with  him. 

''Why,  Mr.  Bally,"  said  I,  "the  house  will  still  be 
open  to  you  for  a  time." 

"  For  a  time  ?  "  says  he.  "I  do  not  know  if  I  quite 
take  your  meaning." 

"  It  is  plain  enough,"  said  I.  "  We  keep  you  for  our 
reputation  ;  as  soon  as  you  shall  have  publicly  disgraced 
yourself  by  some  of  your  misconduct,  we  shall  pack  you 
forth  again," 

"  You  are  become  an  impudent  rogue,"  said  the 
Master,  bending  his  brows  at  me  dangerously. 

"1  learned  in  a  good  school,"  I  returned.  "And 
you  must  have  perceived  yourself,  that  with  my  old 
lord's  death  your  power  is  quite  departed.  I  do  not 
fear  you  now,  Mr.  Bally  ;  I  think  even— God  forgive 
me — that  I  take  a  certain  pleasure  in  your  company." 

He  broke  out  in  a  burst  of  laughter,  which  I  clearly 
saw  to  be  assumed. 

"I  have  come  with  empty  pockets,"  says  he,  after  a 
pause. 

"I  do  not  think  there  will  be  any  money  going,"  I 
reijlied.     "I  would  advise  you  not  to  build  on  that," 

"I  shall  have  something  to  say  on  the  point,"  he 
returned. 


208  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

''Indeed?"  said  I.  "I  have  not  a  guess  what  it 
will  be,  then." 

''Oh,  you  affect  confidence,"  said  the  Master.  "I 
have  still  one  strong  position, — that  you  people  fear  a 
scandal,  and  I  enjoy  it." 

"Pardon  me,  Mr.  Bally,"  sa3^s  I.  "We  do  not  in 
the  least  fear  a  scandal  against  you." 

He  laughed  again.  "  You  have  been  studying  repar- 
tee," he  said.  "But  speech  is  very  easy,  and  some- 
times very  deceptive.  I  warn  you  fairly  :  you  will  find 
me  vitriol  in  the  house.  You  would  do  wiser  to  })ay 
money  down,  and  see  my  back."  And  with  that,  he 
waved  his  hand  to  me  and  left  the  room. 

A  little  after,  my  lord  came  with  the  lawyer,  Mr. 
Cai'lyle  ;  a  bottle  of  old  wine  was  brought,  and  we  all 
had  a  glass  before  we  fell  to  business.  The  necessary 
deeds  were  then  prepared  and  executed,  and  the  Scotch 
estates  made  over  in  trust  to  Mr.  Carlyle  and  myself. 

"There  is  one  point,  Mr.  Carlyle,"  said  my  lord, 
when  these  affairs  had  been  adjusted,  "  on  which  I  wish 
that  you  would  do  us  justice.  This  sudden  departure 
coinciding  with  my  brother's  return  will  be  certainly 
commented  on.  I  wish  you  would  discourage  any  con- 
junction of  the  two." 

"  I  will  make  a  point  of  it,  my  lord,"  said  Mr. 
Carlyle.  "  The  Mas — Mr.  Bally  does  not  then  accom- 
pany you  ?  " 

"It  is   a  point   I   must  approach,"   said   my  lord. 


THE   ENEMY   IN   THE   HOUSE.  209 

*'Mr.  Bally  remains  at.  Durrisdeev  under  the  care  of 
Mr.  Mackellar ;  and  I  do  not  mean  that  he  shall  even 
know  our  destination." 

"  Common  report,  however — "  began  the  lawyer. 

"  Ah,  but,  Mr.  Carlyle,  this  is  to  be  a  secret  quite 
among  ourselves,"  interrupted  my  lord.  "None  but 
you  and  Mackellar  are  to  be  made  acquainted  with  my 
movements." 

"And  Mr.  Bally  stays  here?  Quite  so,"  said  Mr. 
Carlyle.  "The  powers  you  leave — "  Then  he  broke 
off  again.  "  Mr.  Mackellar,  we  have  a  rather  heavy 
weight  upon  us." 

"  No  doubt,  sir,"  said  I. 

"No  doubt,"  said  he.  "Mr.  Bally  will  have  no 
voice  ?" 

*'He  will  have  no  voice,"  said  my  lord,  "and  I  hope 
no  influence.     Mr.  Bally  is  not  a  good  adviser." 

"I  see,"  said  the  lawyer.  "By  the  way,  has  Mr. 
Bally  means  ?  " 

"I  understand  him  to  have  nothing,"  replied  my 
lord.     "  I  give  him  table,  fire,  and  candle  in  this  house." 

"  And  in  the  matter  of  an  allowance  ? — If  I  am 
to  share  the  responsibility,  you  will  see  how  highly 
desirable  it  is  that  I  should  understand  your  views," 
said  the  lawyer.      "  On  the  question  of  an  allowance  ?  " 

"There  will  be  no  allowance,"  said  my  lord.      "I 
wish   Mr.    Bally   to   live   very  private.     We   have  not 
always  been  gratified  with  his  behaviour." 
14 


210  THE  MASTER  OF   BALLANTRAE. 

*'And  in  the  matter  of  money,"  I  Jidded,  'Mie  has 
shown  himself  an  infamous  bad  husband.  Glance  your 
eye  upon  that  docket,  Mr.  Carlyle,  where  I  have  brought 
together  the  different  sums  the  man  has  drawn  from 
the  estate  in  the  last  fifteen  or  twenty  years.  The  total 
is  pretty." 

Mr.  Carlyle  made  the  motion  of  whistling.  "I  had 
no  guess  of  this,"  said  he.  ''  Excuse  me  once  more,  my 
lord,  if  I  ap}3ear  to  push  you  ;  but  it  is  really  desira- 
ble I  should  penetrate  your  intentions:  Mr.  Mackellar 
might  die,  when  I  should  find  myself  alone  upon  tliis 
trust.  Would  it  not  be  ratiier  your  lordship's  prefer- 
ence that  Mr.  Bally  should — ahem — should  leave  the 
country  ?  " 

My  lord  looked  at  Mr.  Carlyle.  "  Why  do  you  ask 
that  ?  "  said  he. 

"I  gather,  my  lord,  that  Mr.  Bally  is  not  a  comfort 
to  his  family,"  says  the  lawyer  with  a  smile. 

My  lord's  face  became  suddenly  knotted.  "  I  wish  he 
was  in  hell,"  cried  he,  and  filled  himself  a  glass  of  wine, 
but  with  a  hand  so  tottering  that  he  spilled  the  half 
into  his  bosom.  This  was  the  second  time  that,  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  regular  and  wise  behavioiir,  his  ani- 
mosity had  spirted  out.  It  startled  Mr.  Carlyle,  who 
observed  my  lord  thenceforth  with  covert  curiosity,  and 
to  me  it  restored  the  certainty  that  we  were  acting  for 
the  best  m  view  of  my  lord's  health  and  reason. 

Except  for  this  explosion,  the  interview  was  very  suc' 


THE  KNEMY  IN  THE  HOUSE.         211 

cessfully  conducted.  No  doubt  Mr.  Carlyle  would  talk  ; 
as  lawyers  do,  little  by  little.  "We  could  thus  feel  we  had 
laid  the  foundations  of  a  better  feeling  in  the  country  ; 
and  the  man's  own  misconduct  would  certainly  complete 
what  we  had  begun.  Indeed,  before  his  departure,  the 
lawyer  showed  us  there  had  already  gone  abroad  some 
glimmerings  of  the  truth. 

"I  should  perhaps  explain  to  you,  my  lord,"  said  he, 
pausing,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  ''that  I  have  not 
been  altogether  surprised  with  your  lordship's  dispo- 
sitions in  the  case  of  Mr.  Bally.  Something  of  this 
nature  oozed  out  when  he  was  last  in  Durrisdeer.  There 
was  some  talk  of  a  woman  at  St.  Bride's,  to  whom  you 
had  behaved  extremely  handsome,  and  Mr.  Bally  with  no 
small  degree  of  cruelty.  There  was  the  entail  again, 
which  was  much  controverted.  In  short,  there  was  no 
want  of  talk,  back  and  forward  ;  and  some  of  our  wise- 
acres took  up  a  strong  opinion.  I  remained  in  suspense, 
as  became  one  of  my  cloth  ;  but  Mr.  Mackellar's  docket 
here  has  finally  opened  my  eyes.  I  do  not  think,  Mr. 
Mackellar,  that  you  and  I  will  give  him  that  much  rope." 

The  rest  of  that  important  day  passed  jirosperously 
through.  It  was  our  policy  to  keep  the  enemy  in  view, 
and  I  took  my  turn  to  be  his  watchman  with  the  rest. 
I  think  his  spirits  rose  as  he  perceived  us  to  be  so  atten- 
tive :  and  I  know  that  mine  insensibly  declined.  What 
chiefly  daunted  me  was  the  man's  singular  dexterity  to 


212  THE    MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE, 

worm  himself  into  our  troubles.  You  may  have  felt 
(after  a  horse  accident)  the  hand  of  a  bone-setter  artfully 
divide  and  interrogate  the  muscles,  and  settle  strongly 
on  the  injured  place  ?  It  was  so  with  the  Master's  tongue 
that  was  so  cunning  to  question,  and  his  eyes  that  were 
so  quick  to  observe.  I  seemed  to  have  said  nothing,  and 
yet  to  have  let  all  out.  Before  I  knew  where  I  was,  the 
man  was  condoling  with  me  on  my  lord's  neglect  of 
my  lady  and  myself,  and  his  hurtful  indulgence  to  his 
son.  On  this  last  point  I  perceived  him  (with  panic  fear) 
to  return  repeatedly.  The  boy  had  displayed  a  certain 
shrinking  from  his  uncle  ;  it  was  strong  in  my  mind 
his  father  had  been  fool  enough  to  indoctrinate  the 
same,  which  was  no  wise  beginning  :  and  when  I  looked 
upon  the  man  before  me,  still  so  handsome,  so  apt  a 
speaker,  with  so  great  a  variety  of  fortunes  to  relate,  I 
saw  he  was  the  very  personage  to  captivate  a  boyish  fancy. 
John  Paul  had  left  only  that  morning  ;  it  was  not  to  be 
supposed  he  had  been  altogether  dumb  upon  his  favour- 
ite subject  :  so  that  here  would  be  Mr.  Alexander  in 
the  part  of  Dido,  with  a  curiosity  inflamed  to  hear ;  and 
there  would  be  the  Master  like  a  diabolical  ^neas,  full 
of  matter  the  most  pleasing  in  the  world  to  any  youthful 
ear,  such  as  battles,  sea-disasters,  flights,  the  forests  of 
the  west,  and  (since  his  later  voyage)  the  ancient  cities 
of  the  Indies.  How  cunningly  these  baits  might  be 
employed,  and  wliat  an  empire  might  be  so  founded, 
little  by  little,  in  the  mind  of  any  boy,  stood  obviously 


THE    ENEMY    IN    THE    HOUSE.  213 

clear  to  me.  There  was  no  inhibition,  so  long  as  the  man 
was  in  the  house,  that  would  be  strong  enough  to  hold 
these  two  apart ;  for  if  it  be  hard  to  cliarm  serpents,  it  is 
no  very  difficult  thing  to  cast  a  glamour  on  a  little  chip 
of  manhood  not  very  long  in  breeches.  I  recalled  an 
ancient  sailor-man  who  dwelt  in  a  lone  house  beyond  the 
Figgate  Whins  (I  believe  he  called  it  after  Portobello), 
and  how  the  boys  would  troop  out  of  Leith  on  a  Satur- 
day, and  sit  and  listen  to  his  swearing  tales,  as  thick 
as  crows  about  a  carrion  :  a  thing  I  often  remarked  as 
I  went  by,  a  young  student,  on  my  own  more  meditative 
holiday  diversion.  Many  of  these  boys  went,  no  doubt, 
in  the  face  of  an  express  command ;  many  feared  and 
even  hated  the  old  brute  of  whom  they  made  their  hero; 
and  I  have  seen  them  flee  from  him  when  he  was  tipsy, 
and  stone  him  when  he  was  drunk.  And  yet  there  they 
came  each  Saturday  !  How  much  more  easily  would 
a  boy  like  Mr.  Alexander  fall  under  the  influence  of  a 
high-looking,  high-spoken  gentleman-adventurer,  who 
should  conceive  the  fancy  to  entrap  him  ;  and,  the 
influence  gained,  how  easy  to  employ  it  for  the  child's 
perversion  ! 

I  doubt  if  our  enemy  had  named  Mr.  Alexander  three 
times,  before  1  j)crccived  which  way  his  mind  was  aim- 
ing,— all  this  train  of  thought  and  memory  passed  in  one 
pulsation  through  my  own, — and  you  may  say  I  started 
back  as  though  an  open  hole  had  gaped  across  a  path- 
way.    Mr.  Alexander  :  there  was  the  weak  point,  there 


214  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

was  the  Eve  in  our  perishable  paradise ;  and  the  serpent 
was  already  hissing  on  the  trail. 

I  promise  you  I  went  the  more  heartily  about  the 
preparations  ;  my  last  scruple  gone,  the  danger  of  delay 
written  before  me  in  huge  characters.  From  that 
moment  forth,  I  seem  not  to  have  sat  down  or  breathed. 
Now  I  would  be  at  my  post  with  the  Master  and  his 
Indian  ;  now  in  the  garret  buckling  a  valise  ;  now  send- 
ing forth  Macconochie  by  the  side  postern  and  the  wood- 
path  to  bear  it  to  the  trysting-place  ;  and  again,  snatch- 
ing some  words  of  counsel  with  my  lady.  This  was  the 
verso  of  our  life  in  Durrisdecr  that  day  ;  but  on  the  7'ecto 
all  appeared  quite  settled,  as  of  a  family  at  home  in  its 
paternal  seat ;  and  what  perturbation  may  have  been 
observable,  the  Master  would  set  down  to  the  blow  of  his 
unlooked-for  coming  and  the  fear  he  was  accustomed  to 
inspire. 

Supper  went  creditably  off,  cold  salutations  passed, 
and  the  company  trooped  to  their  respective  chambers. 
I  attended,  the  Master  to  the  last.  We  had  put  him 
next  door  to  his  Indian,  in  the  north  wing ;  because 
that  was  the  most  distant  and.  could  be  severed  from  the 
body  of  the  house  with  doors,  I  saw  he  was  a  kind 
friend  or  a  good  master  (whichever  it  was)  to  his  Secun- 
dra  Dass  :  seeing  to  his  comfort ;  mending  the  fire  with 
his  own  hand,  for  the  Indian  complained  of  cold  ;  in- 
quiring as  to  the  rice  on  which  the  stranger  made  his 
diet;  talking  with  him  pleasantly  in  the  Ilindustanee, 


THE    ENEMY   IN   THE   HOUSE.  215 

while  I  stood  by,  my  caudle  in  my  hand,  and  affected 
to  be  overcome  with  slumber.  At  length  the  Master 
observed  my  signals  of  distress.  "I  perceive,"  says  he, 
"  that  you  have  all  your  ancient  habits  :  early  to  bed 
and  early  to  rise.     Yawn  yourself  away  !  " 

Once  in  my  own  room,  I  made  the  customary  motions 
of  undressing,  so  that  I  might  time  myself  ;  and  when 
the  cycle  was  complete,  set  my  tindor-box  ready  and  blew 
out  my  taper.  The  matter  of  an  hour  afterward,  I  made 
a  light  again,  put  on  my  shoes  of  list  that  I  had  worn 
by  my  lord's  sick-bed,  and  set  forth  into  the  house  to  call 
the  voyagers.  All  were  dressed  and  waiting, — my  lord, 
my  lady.  Miss  Katharine,  Mr.  Alexander,  my  lady's 
woman  Christie ;  and  I  observed  the  effect  of  secrecy 
even  upon  quite  innocent  jiersous,  that  one  after  another 
showed  in  the  chink  of  the  door  a  face  as  white  as  paper. 
We  slipped  out  of  the  side  postern  into  a  night  of  dark- 
ness, scarce  broken  by  a  star  or  two  ;  so  that  at  first  we 
groped  and  stumbled  and  fell  among  the  bushes.  A  few 
hundred  yards  up  the  wood-path,  Macconochie  was  wait- 
ing us  with  a  great  lantern  ;  so  the  rest  of  the  way  we 
went  easy  enough,  but  still  in  a  kind  of  guilty  silence. 
A  little  beyond  the  abbey,  the  path  debouched  on  the 
main  road  ;  and  some  quarter  of  a  mile  farther,  at  the 
place  called  Eagles,  where  the  moors  begin,  we  saw  the 
lights  of  the  two  carriages  stand  shining  by  the  way- 
side. Scarce  a  word  or  two  was  uttered  at  our  parting, 
and  these  regarded  business  :  a  silent  grasping  of  hands. 


216  TUE   MASTEK   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

a  turning  of  faces  aside,  and  the  thing  was  over  ;  the 
horses  broke  into  a  trot,  the  lamplight  sped  like  Will 
o'  the  Wisp  upon  the  broken  moorland,  it  dipped  bej'ond 
Stony  Brae;  and  there  were  Macconochie  and  I  alone 
with  our  lantern  on  the  road.  There  was  one  thing 
more  to  wait  for;  and  that  was  the  reappearance  of  the 
coach  upon  Cartmore.  It  seems  they  must  have  pulled 
up  upon  the  summit,  looked  back  for  a  last  time,  and 
seen  our  lantern  not  yet  moved  away  from  the  place 
of  separation.  For  a  lamp  was  taken  from  a  carriage, 
and  waved  three  times  up  and  down  by  way  of  a  fare- 
well. And  then  they  were  gone  indeed,  having  looked 
their  last  on  the  kind  roof  of  Durrisdeer,  their  faces 
toward  a  barbarous  country.  I  never  knew,  before,  the 
greatness  of  that  vault  of  night  in  which  wc  two  poor 
serving-men,  the  one  old  and  the  one  elderly,  stood  for 
the  first  time  deserted ;  I  had  never  felt,  before,  my 
own  dependency  upon  the  countenance  of  others.  The 
sense  of  isolation  burned  in  my  bowels  like  a  fire.  It 
seemed  that  we  who  remained  at  home  were  the  true 
exiles ;  and  that  Durrisdeer,  and  Solwayside,  and  all 
that  made  my  country  native,  its  air  good  to  me,  and 
its  language  welcome,  had  gone  forth  and  was  for  over 
the  sea  with  my  old  masters. 

The  remainder  of  that  night  I  paced  to  and  fro  on 
the  smooth  highway,  reflecting  on  the  future  and  the 
past.  My  thoughts,  which  at  first  dwelled  tenderly  on 
those  who  were  just  gone,  took  a  more  manly  temj^er  as 


AND   THEN    THEY  WERE  r.OM.,    IM>Ki;i),    II.W  IMi     I.OOKEI)   THEIIl    I^AST    (IN  THE 
KIND   ROOF  (IF   DUKRISDEER. 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  HOUSE.         217 

I  considered  what  remained  for  me  to  do.  Da}'  came 
upon  the  inland  mountain-tops,  and  the  fowls  began  to 
cry  and  the  smoke  of  homesteads  to  arise  in  the  brown 
bosom  of  the  moors,  before  I  turned  my  face  homeward 
and  went  down  the  path  to  where  the  roof  of  Durrisdeer 
shone  in  the  morning  by  the  sea. 

At  the  customary  hour  I  had  the  Master  called,  and 
awaited  his  coming  in  the  hall  with  a  quiet  mind. 
He  looked  about  him  at  the  empty  room  and  the  three 
covers  set. 

'' We  are  a  small  party,"  said  he.  "How  comes 
that  ?  " 

"  This  is  the  party  to  which  we  must  grow  accus- 
tomed," I  replied. 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  sudden  sharpness.  "  What 
is  all  this  ?  ''  said  he. 

'^You  and  I  and  your  friend  Mr.  Dass  are  now  all 
the  company,"  I  replied.  ''My  lord,  my  lady,  and  the 
children  are  gone  upon  a  voyage." 

"Upon  my  word!"  said  he.  "Can  this  be  possi- 
ble ?  I  have  indeed  fluttered  your  Volscians  in  Corioli  ! 
But  this  is  no  reason  why  our  breakfast  should  go  cold. 
Sit  down,  Mr.  Mackellar,  if  you  please" — taking,  as  he 
spoke,  the  head  of  the  table,  which  I  had  designed  to 
occupy  myself — "  and  as  we  eat,  you  can  give  me  the 
details  of  this  evasion." 

I  could  see  he  was  more  affected  than  his  language 


218  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

carried,  and  I  determined  to  equal  him  in  coolness.  ^'  I 
was  about  to  ask  you  to  take  the  bead  of  the  table," 
said  I  ;  "for  though  I  am  now  thrust  into  the  position 
of  your  host,  I  could  never  forget  that  you  were,  after 
all,  a  member  of  the  family." 

For  a  while  he  played  the  part  of  entertainer,  giv- 
ing directions  to  Macconochie,  who  received  them  with 
an  evil  grace,  and  attending  specially  upon  Secundra. 
"And  where  has  my  good  family  withdrawn  to  ?"  he 
asked  carelessly. 

*'Ah,  Mr.  Bally,  that  is  another  point!"  said  I. 
"I  have  no  orders  to  communicate  their  destination." 

"To  me,"  he  corrected. 

"  To  any  one,"  said  I. 

"It  is  the  less  pointed,"  said  the  master;  '^  aest  de 
Ion  ton :  my  brother  improves  as  he  continues.  And 
I,  dear  Mr.  Muckellar  ?  " 

"  You  will  have  bed  and  l)oard,  Mr.  Bally,"  said  I. 
"'I  am  permitted  to  give  you  the  run  of  the  cellar, 
which  is  pretty  reasonably  stocked.  You  have  only  to 
keep  well  with  me,  which  is  no  very  difficult  matter,  and 
you  shall  want  neither  for  wine  nor  a  saddle-horse." 

He  made  an  excuse  to  send  Macconochie  from  the 
room. 

"And  for  money  ?"  he  inquired.  "  Plave  I  to  keep 
well  with  my  good  friend  Mackellar  for  my  pocket- 
money  also  ?  This  is  a  pleasing  return  to  the  prin- 
ciples of  boyhood." 


THE    ENEMY   IN   THE   HOUSE,  219 

*' There  was  no  allowance  made,"  said  I;  ''bnt  I 
will  take  it  on  myself  to  see  you  are  supplied  in  mod- 
eration." 

"In  moderation?"  he  repeated.  "And  you  will 
take  it  on  yourself?"  He  drew  himself  up  and  looked 
about  the  hall  at  the  dark  rows  of  portraits.  "  In  the 
name  of  my  ancestors,  I  thank  you,"  says  he  ;  and 
then,  with  a  return  to  irony:  "But  there  must  cer- 
tainly be  an  allowance  for  Secundra  Dass  ? "  he  said. 
*'It  is  not  possible  they  have  omitted  that." 

"I  will  make  a  note  of  it  and  ask  instructions  when 
I  write,"  said  I. 

And  he,  with  a  sudden  change  of  manner,  and  lean- 
ing forward  with  an  elbow  on  the  table  :  "  Do  you  think 
this  entirely  wise  ?  " 

"  I  execute  my  orders,  Mr.  Bally,"  said  I. 

"Profoundly  modest,"  said  the  Master:  "perhaps 
not  equally  ingenuous.  You  told  me  yesterday  my 
power  was  fallen  with  my  father's  deatb.  How  comes 
it,  then,  that  a  peer  of  the  realm  flees  under  cloud  of 
night  out  of  a  house  in  which  his  fathers  have  stood 
several  sieges  ?  that  he  conceals  his  address,  which  must 
be  a  matter  of  concern  to  his  Gracious  Majesty  and  to 
the  whole  republic  ?  and  that  he  should  leave  me  in 
possession,  and  under  the  paternal  charge  of  his  invalu- 
able Mackellar?  This  smacks  to  me  of  a  very  consider- 
able and  genuine  apprehension." 

I  sought  to  interrupt  him  with  some  not  very  truthful 


220  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

denegation  ;  but  he  waved  nie  down  and  pursued  his 
speech. 

"  I  say  it  smacks  of  it,"  he  said,  "  but  I  will  go  beyond 
that,  for  I  think  the  apprehension  grounded.  I  came  to 
this  house  witli  some  reluctancy.  In  view  of  the  man- 
ner of  my  last  departure,  nothing  but  necessity  could 
have  induced  me  to  return.  Money,  however,  is  that 
which  I  must  have.  You  will  not  give  with  a  good 
grace;  well,  I  have  the  power  to  force  it  from  you.  In- 
side of  a  week,  without  leaving  Durrisdeer,  I  will  find 
out  where  these  fools  are  fled  to.  I  will  follow ;  and 
when  I  have  run  my  quarry  down,  I  will  drive  a  wedge 
into  that  family  that  shall  once  more  bui'st  it  into  shiv- 
ers. I  shall  see  then  whether  my  Lord  Durrisdeer" 
(said  with  indescribable  scorn  and  rage)  "  will  choose  to 
buy  my  absence  ;  and  you  will  all  see  whether,  by  that 
time,  I  decide  for  profit  or  revenge." 

I  was  amazed  to  hear  the  man  so  open.  The  truth  is, 
he  was  consumed  with  anger  at  ni}'  lord's  successful 
flight,  felt  himself  to  figure  as  a  dupe,  and  was  in  no 
humour  to  weigh  language. 

"Do  you  consider  this  entirely  wise  ?"  said  I,  copy- 
ing his  words. 

"  These  twenty  years  I  have  lived  by  my  poor  wisdom," 
he  answered  with  a  smile  that  seemed  almost  foolish  in 
its  vanity. 

"And  come  out  a  beggar  in  the  end,"  said  I,  "if 
beggar  be  a  strong  enough  word  for  it." 


THE  ENEMY   IN  THE   HOUSE.  221 

"  I  would  have  you  to  observe,  Mr.  Mackellar," 
cried  he,  with  a  sudden,  imperious  heat  in  which  I 
could  not  but  admire  him,  ''that  I  am  scrupulously 
civil  :  copy  me  in  that,  and  we  shall  be  the  better 
friends." 

Throughout  this  dialogue  I  had  been  incommoded 
by  the  observation  of  Secundra  Dass.  Not  one  of  us, 
since  the  first  word,  had  made  a  feint  of  eating :  our 
eyes  were  in  each  other's  faces — you  might  say,  in  each 
other's  bosoms  ;  and  those  of  the  Indian  troubled  me 
with  a  certr.in  changing  brightness,  as  of  comprehension. 
But  I  brushed  the  fancy  aside  :  telling  myself  once  more 
he  understood  no  English  ;  only,  from  the  gravity  of 
both  voices  and  the  occasional  scorn  and  anger  in  the 
Master's,  smelled  out  there  was  something  of  import  in 
the  wind. 

For  the  matter  of  three  weeks  we  continued  to  live 
together  in  the  house  of  Durrisdeer  :  the  beginning  of 
that  most  singular  chapter  of  my  life — what  I  must  call 
my  intimacy  with  the  Master.  At  first  he  was  somewhat 
changeable  in  his  behaviour  :  now  civil,  now  returning 
to  his  old  manner  of  flouting  me  to  my  face  ;  and  in 
both  I  met  him  half  way.  Thanks  be  to  Providence,  I 
had  now  no  measure  to  keep  with  the  man  ;  and  I  was 
never  afraid  of  black  brows,  only  of  naked  swords.  So 
that  I  found  a  certain  entertainment  in  these  bouts  of 
incivility,    and  was  not  always   ill-inspired  in    my  re- 


222        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

joinclcrp.  At  last  (it  was  at  supper)  I  had  a  droll 
expression  that  entirely  vanquished  him.  He  laughed 
again  and  again  ;  and  "  Wlio  would  have  guessed,"  he 
cried,  *'that  this  old  wife  liad  au}^  wit  under  his  petti- 
coats ?  "' 

"It  is  no  wit,  Mr.  Bally,"  said  I:  ''a  dry  Scot's 
humour,  and  something  of  the  driest."  And  indeed  I 
never  had  the  least  pretension  to  be  thought  a  wit. 

From  that  hour  he  was  never  rude  with  me,  but  all 
passed  between  us  in  a  manner  of  pleasantry.  One  of 
our  chief  times  of  daflfing*  was  when  he  required  a 
horse,  another  bottle,  or  some  money  ;  he  would  ap- 
proach me  then  after  the  manner  of  a  school-boy,  and  I 
would  carry  it  on  by  way  of  being  his  father  :  on  both 
sides,  with  an  infinity  of  mirth.  I  could  not  but  per- 
ceive that  he  thought  more  of  me,  which  tickled  that 
poor  part  of  mankind,  the  vanity.  He  dropped  besides 
(I  must  suppose  unconsciously)  into  a  manner  that  was 
not  only  familiar,  but  even  friendly ;  and  this,  on  the 
part  of  one  who  had  so  long  detested  me,  I  found  the 
more  insidious.  He  went  little  abroad  ;  sometimes  even 
refusing  invitations.  ''No,"  he  would  say,  ''what  do 
I  care  for  these  thick-headed  bonnet-lairds  ?  I  will  stay 
at  home,  Mackellar  ;  and  we  shall  share  a  bottle  quietly 
and  have  one  of  our  good  talks."  And  indeed  meal- 
time at  Durrisdeer  must  have  been  a  delight  to  any  one, 
by  reason  of  the  brilliancy  of  the  discourse.  He  would 
*  Fooling. 


THE  ENEMY   IN   THE   HOUSE.  223 

often  express  wonder  at  his  former  indifference  to  my 
society.  *' But  you  see,"  he  would  add,  "we  were  upon 
opposite  sides.  And  so  we  are  to-day  ;  but  let  us  never 
speak  of  that.  I  would  think  much  less  of  you  if  you 
"were  not  staunch  to  your  employer."  You  are  to  con- 
sider, he  seemed  to  me  quite  impotent  for  any  evil ;  and 
how  it  is  a  most  engaging  form  of  flattery  when  (after 
many  years)  tardy  justice  is  done  to  a  man's  character 
and  parts.  But  I  have  no  thought  to  excuse  myself.  I 
was  to  blame  ;  I  let  him  cajole  me  ;  and,  in  short,  I 
think  the  watch-dog  was  going  sound  asleep,  when  he 
was  suddenly  aroused. 

T  should  say  the  Indian  was  continually  travelling  to 
and  fro  in  the  house.  He  never  spoke,  save  in  his  own 
dialect  and  with  the  Master;  walked  without  sound; 
and  was  always  turning  up  where  you  would  least  ex- 
pect him  fallen  into  a  deep  abstraction,  from  which  he 
would  start  (upon  your  coming)  to  mock  you  with  one 
of  his  grovelling  obeisances.  He  seemed  so  quiet,  so 
frail,  and  so  wrapped  in  his  own  fancies,  that  I  came  to 
pass  him  over  without  much  regard,  or  even  to  pity  him 
for  a  harmless  exile  from  his  country.  And  yet  with- 
out doubt  the  creature  was  still  eavesdropping;  and 
without  doubt  it  was  through  his  stealth  and  my  secu- 
rity that  our  secret  reached  the  Master. 

It  was  one  very  wild  night,  after  supper,  and  when 
we  had  been  making  more  than  usually  merry,  that  the 
blow  fell  on  me. 


22^  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLAIJTRAE. 

"This  is  all  verv  fine,"  saj^s  the  Master,  "but  we 
should  do  better  to  be  buckling  our  valise." 

"  Why  so  ?  "  I  cried.     "  Are  you  leaving  ?  " 

"We  are  all  leaving  to-morrow  in  the  morning,"  said 
he.  "For  the  port  of  Glascow  first:  thence  for  the 
province  of  New  York." 

I  suppose  I  must  have  groaned  aloud. 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  "I  boasted  :  I  said  a  week,  and 
it  has  taken  me  near  twenty  days.  But  never  mind  :  I 
shall  make  it  up  ;  I  will  go  the  faster." 

"  Have  you  the  money  for  this  voyage  ?  "  I  asl.  A. 

"  Dear  and  ingenuous  personage,  I  have,"  said  he. 
"  Blame  me,  if  you  choose,  for  my  duplicity  ;  but  while 
I  have  been  wringing  shillings  from  my  daddy,  I  had  a 
stock  of  ray  own  put  by  against  a  rainy  day.  You  will 
pay  for  your  own  passage,  if  you  choose  to  accompany 
us  on  our  flank  march  ;  I  have  enough  for  Sccundra 
and  myself,  but  not  more  :  enough  to  be  dangerous,  not 
enough  to  be  generous.  There  is,  however,  an  outside 
seat  upon  the  chaise  which  I  will  let  you  have  upon  a 
moderate  commutation  ;  so  that  the  whole  menagerie 
can  go  together,  the  house-dog,  the  monkey,  and  the 
tiger. " 

"  I  go  with  you,"  said  I. 

"I  count  upon  it,"  said  the  Master.  "You  have 
seen  me  foiled,  I  mean  you  shall  see  me  victorious.  To 
gain  that,  I  will  risk  wetting  you  like  a  sop  in  this  wild 
weather." 


THE   ENEMY   IN"  THE   HOUSE.  225 

"And  at  least,"  I  added,  ''yon  know  very  well  you 
conld  not  throw  me  off." 

"  Not  easily,"  said  lie.  "  You  put  your  finger  on  the 
point  with  your  usual  excellent  good  sense.  I  never 
fight  with  the  inevitable." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  useless  to  appeal  to  you,"  said  I. 

"  Believe  me,  perfectly,"  said  he. 

"  And  yet  if  you  would  give  me  time,  I  could  write — " 
I  began. 

"And  what  would  be  my  Lord  Durrisdeer's  answer  ?" 
asks  h  ,j' 

"Aye,"  said  I,  "  that  is  the  rub." 

"And  at  any  rate,  how  mucli  more  expeditious  that 
I  should  go  myself !"  says  he.  "But  all  this  is  quite 
a  waste  of  breath.  At  seven  to-morrow  the  chaise  will 
be  at  the  door.  For  I  start  from  the  door,  Mackellar  ; 
I  do  not  skulk  through  woods  and  take  my  chaise  upon 
the  wayside — shall  we  say,  at  Eagles  ?  " 

My  mind  was  now  thoroughly  made  up.  "  Can  you 
spare  me  quarter  of  an  hour  at  St.  Bride's  ?  "  said  I.  "I 
have  a  little  necessary  business  with  Carlyle." 

"  An  hour,  if  you  prefer,"  said  he.  "  I  do  not  seek  to 
deny  that  the  money  for  your  seat  is  an  object  to  me  ; 
and  you  could  always  get  the  first  to  Glascow  with 
saddle-horses." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "  I  never  thought  to  leave  old  Scot- 
land." 

"It  v/ill  brisken  you  up,"  says  he. 
15 


226        THE  MASTER  OF  BALL  ANTE  AE. 

"  This  will  bo  an  ill  journey  for  some  one,"  I  said.  "1 
think,  sir,  for  3^011.  Something  speaks  in  my  bosom  ; 
and  so  much  it  says  plain,  That  this  is  an  ill-omened 
jonrney." 

"  If  you  take  to  prophecy,"  says  he,  "  listen  to  that." 

There  came  up  a  violent  squall  off  the  open  Solway, 
and  the  rain  was  dashed  on  the  great  windows. 

''  Do  ye  ken  what  that  bodes,  warloct  ?  "  said  he,  in 
a  broad  accent  :  "that  there'll  be  a  man  Mackellar  unco 
sick  at  sea." 

When  I  got  to  my  chamber,  I  sat  there  under  a  pain- 
ful excitation,  hearkening  to  the  turmoil  of  the  gale 
which  struck  full  upon  that  gable  of  the  house.  What 
with  the  pressure  on  my  spirits,  the  eldritch  cries  of  the 
wind  among  the  turret-tops,  and  the  perpetual  trepida- 
tion of  the  masoned  house,  sleep  fled  my  eyelids  utterly. 
I  sat  by  my  taper,  looking  on  the  black  panes  of  the 
window  where  the  storm  appeared  continually  on  the 
point  of  bursting  in  its  entrance  ;  and  upon  that  empty 
field  I  beheld  a  perspective  of  consequences  that  made 
the  hair  to  rise  upon  my  scalp.  The  child  corrupted, 
the  home  broken  up,  my  master  dead  or  worse  than 
dead,  my  mistress  plunged  in  desolation, — all  these  I  saw 
before  me  painted  brightly  on  the  darkness  ;  and  the 
outcry  of  the  wind  appeared  to  mock  at  my  inaction. 


ME.   MACKELLAR'S  JOURNEY   WITPI   THE 
MASTER. 

The  chaise  came  to  the  door  in  a  strong  drenching 
mist.  We  took  our  leave  in  silence  :  the  house  of  Dur- 
risdeer  standing  with  dropping  gutters  and  windows 
closed,  like  a  place  dedicate  to  melancholy.  I  observed 
the  Master  kept  his  head  out,  looking  back  on  these 
splaslied  walls  and  glimmering  roofs,  till  they  were  sud- 
denly swallowed  in  the  mist ;  and  I  must  suppose  some 
natural  sadness  fell  upon  the  man  at  this  dejmrture  ;  or 
was  it  some  prevision  of  the  end  ?  At  least,  upon  our 
mounting  the  long  brae  from  Durrisdeer,  as  we  walked 
side  by  side  in  the  wet,  he  began  first  to  whistle  and  then 
to  sing  the  saddest  of  our  country  tunes,  which  sets 
folk  weeping  in  a  tavern,  Wandering  Willie.  The  set  of 
words  he  used  with  it,  I  have  not  heard  elsewhere,  and 
could  never  come  by  any  copy  ;  but  some  of  them  which 
were  the  most  appropriate  to  our  departure  linger  in  my 
memory.     One  verse  began  : 

Home  was  home  then,  my  dear,  full  of  kindly  faces  ; 
Home  was  home  then,  my  dear,  happy  for  the  child. 

And  ended  somewhat  thus  : 


223  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLANTRAE. 

Now,  when  day  dawns  on  the  brow  of  the  moorland, 
Lone  stands  the  house  and  the  chimney-stone  is  cold. 

Lone  let  it  stand,  now  the  folks  are  all  departed, 
The  kind  hearts,  the  true  hearts,  that  loved  the  place  of  old. 

I  could  never  be  a  judge  of  the  merit  of  these  verses;  they 
were  so  hallowed  by  the  melancholy  of  the  air,  and  were 
sung  (or  rather  "  soothed  ")  to  me  by  a  master  singer  at 
a  time  so  fitting,  lie  looked  in  my  face  when  he  had 
done,  and  saw  that  my  eyes  watered. 

''  Ah,  Mackcllar,"  said  he,  "  do  you  think  I  have 
never  a  regret  ?  " 

"I  do  not  think  you  could  be  so  bad  a  man,"  said  I, 
*'  if  you  had  not  all  the  machinery  to  be  a  good  one." 

"No,  not  all,"  says  he  :  "not  all.  You  are  there 
in  error.  The  malady  of  not  wanting,  my  evangelist. " 
But  methought  he  sighed  as  he  mounted  again  into  the 
chaise. 

All  day  long  we  journeyed  in  the  same  miserable 
Aveather  :  the  mist  besetting  us  closely,  the  heavens 
incessantly  weeping  on  my  head.  The  road  lay  over 
moorish  hills,  where  was  no  sound  but  the  crying  of 
moor-fowl  in  the  wet  heather  and  the  pouring  of  the 
swollen  burns.  Sometimes  I  would  doze  off  in  slum- 
ber, when  I  would  find  myself  plunged  at  once  in  some 
foul  and  ominous  nightmare,  from  the  which  I  would, 
awaken  strangling.  Sometimes,  if  the  way  was  steep  and. 
the  wheels  turning  slowly,  I  would  overhear  the  voices 
from  within,  talking  in  that  tropical  tongue  which  was 


MR.    MACKELLAK'S   JOURNEY.  220 

to  me  as  inarticulate  as  the  piping  of  the  fowls.  Some- 
times, at  a  longer  ascent,  the  Master  would  set  foot  to 
ground  and  walk  by  my  side,  mostly  without  speech. 
And  all  the  time,  sleeping  or  waking,  I  beheld  the  same 
black  perspective  of  approaching  ruin  ;  and  the  same 
pictures  rose  in  my  view,  only  they  were  now  painted 
upon  hillside  mist.  One,  I  remember,  stood  before  me 
with  the  colours  of  a  true  illusion.  It  showed  me  my 
lord  seated  at  a  table  iji  a  small  room  ;  his  head,  which 
was  at  first  buried  in  his  hands,  he  slowly  raised,  and 
turned  upon  me  a  countenance  from  which  hope  had 
fled.  I  saw  it  first  on  the  black  window  panes,  my  last 
night  in  Durrisdeer  ;  it  haunted  and  returned  upon  me 
half  the  voyage  through  ;  and  yet  it  was  no  effect  of 
lunacy,  for  I  have  come  to  a  ripe  old  age  with  no  decay 
of  my  intelligence  ;  nor  yet  (as  I  was  then  tempted  to 
suppose)  a  heaven-sent  warning  of  the  future,  for  all 
manner  of  calamities  befell,  not  that  calamity — and  I 
saw  many  pitiful  sights,  but  never  that  one. 

It  was  decided  we  should  travel  on  all  night  ;  and  it 
was  singular,  once  the  dusk  had  fallen,  my  spirits  some- 
what rose.  The  bright  lamps,  shining  forth  into  the 
mist  and  on  the  smoking  horses  and  the  hodding  post-boy, 
gave  me  i^erhaps  an  outlook  intrinsically  more  cheerful 
than  what  day  had  shown  ;  or  perhaj^s  my  mind  had 
become  wearied  of  its  melancholy.  At  least,  I  spent  some 
waking  hours,  not  without  satisfaction  in  my  thoughts, 
although  wet  and  weary  in  my  body  ;  and  fell  at  last 


230  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE, 

into  a  natural  slumber  without  dreams.  Yet  I  must 
have  been  at  work  even  in  the  deepest  of  my  sleep  ;  and 
at  work  with  at  least  a  measure  of  intelligence.  For  I 
started  broad  awake,  in  the  very  act  of  crying  out  to 
myself 

Home  was  home  then,  ray  dear,  happy  for  tlie  child, 

stricken  to  find  in  it  an  appropriateness,  which  I  had 
not  yesterday  observed,  to  the  Master's  detestable  pur- 
pose in  the  present  jonrney. 

We  were  then  close  upon  the  city  of  Glascow,  where 
we  were  soon  breakfasting  together  at  an  inn,  and  where 
(as  the  devil  would  have  it)  we  found  a  ship  in  the  very 
article  of  sailing.  Wc  took  our  i)laces  in  the  cabin  ; 
and,  two  days  after,  carried  our  effects  on  board.  Her 
name  was  the  Nonesuch,  a  very  ancient  ship  and  very 
happily  named.  By  all  accounts  this  should  be  her 
last  voyage  ;  people  shook  their  heads  upon  the  quays, 
and  I  had  several  warnings  offered  me  by  strangers 
in  the  street,  to  the  effect  that  she  was  rotten  as  a 
cheese,  too  deeply  loaden,  and  must  infallibly  founder 
if  we  met  a  gale.  From  this  it  fell  out  we  wei'c  the 
only  passengers  ;  the  captain,  McMurtrie,  was  a  silent, 
absorbed  man  with  the  Glascow  or  Gaelic  accent ;  the 
mates  ignorant,  rough  seafarers,  come  in  through  the 
liawsehole  ;  and  the  Master  and  I  were  cast  upon  each 
other's  company. 

The  Xoncsuch  carried  a  fair  wind  out  of  the  Clyde, 


■MK     MACKKLLAr's   JOURNEY.  231 

and  for  near  upon  a  week  we  enjo3'cd  bright  weather 
and  a  serjso  of  progress.  I  found  myself  (to  my  wonder) 
a  born  seaman,  in  so  far  at  least  as  I  was  never  sick ;  yet 
I  was  far  from  tasting  the  usual  serenity  of  my  health. 
Whether  it  was  the  motion  of  the  ship  on  the  billows, 
the  confinement,  the  salted  food,  or  all  of  these  together, 
I  suffered  from  a  blackness  of  spirit  and  a  painful  strain 
upon  my  temper.  The  nature  of  my  errand  on  that 
ship  perhaps  contributed  ;  I  think  it  did  no  more  :  the 
malady  (whatever  it  was)  sprang  from  my  environ- 
ment ;  and  if  the  ship  were  not  to  blame,  then  it  was 
the  Master.  Hatred  and  fear  are  ill  bedfellows  ;  but  (to 
my  shame  be  it  spoken)  I  have  tasted  those  in  other 
places,  lain  down  and  got  up  with  them,  and  eaten 
and  drunk  with  them,  and  yet  never  before,  nor  after, 
have  I  been  so  poisoned  through  and  through,  in  soul 
and  body,  as  I  was  on  board  the  Nonesuch.  I  freely 
confess  my  enemy  set  me  a  fair  example  of  forbearance  ; 
in  our  worst  days  displayed  the  most  patient  geniality, 
holding  me  in  conversation  as  long  as  I  woidd  suffer, 
and  when  I  had  rebuffed  his  civility,  stretching  himself 
on  deck  to  read.  The  book  he  had  on  board  with  him 
was  Mr.  Eichardson's  famous  Clarissa;  and  among  other 
small  attentions  he  would  read  me  passages  aloud  ;  nor 
could  any  elocationist  have  given  with  greater  potency 
the  pathetic  portions  of  that  work.  I  would  retort 
upon  him  with  passages  out  of  the  Bible,  which  was  all 
my  library — and  very  fresh  to  me,  my  religious  duties 


232  THE    MASTER    OF   BALLANTKAE. 

(I  grieve  to  say  it)  being  always  and  even  to  this  day 
extremely  neglected.  He  tasted  the  merits  of  the  work 
like  the  connoisseur  he  was  ;  and  would  sometimes  take 
it  from  my  hand,  turn  the  leaves  over  like  a  man  that 
knew  his  way,  and  give  me,  with  his  fine  declamation, 
a  Roland  for  my  Oliver.  But  it  was  singular  how  little 
he  applied  his  reading  to  himself;  it  passed  high  above 
his  head  like  summer  thunder :  Lovelace  and  Clui-issa, 
the  tales  of  David's  generosity,  the  psalms  of  his  peni- 
tence, the  solemn  questions  of  the  book  of  Job,  the 
touching  poetry  of  Isaiah — they  were  to  him  a  source  of 
entertainment  only,  like  the  scraping  of  a  fiddle  in  a 
change-house.  This  outer  sensibility  and  inner  tough- 
ness set  me  against  him  ;  it  seemed  of  a  piece  with  that 
impudent  grossness  which  I  knew  to  underlie  the  veneer 
of  his  fine  manners  ;  and  sometimes  my  gorge  rose 
against  him  as  though  he  were  deformed — and  some- 
times I  would  draw  away  as  though  from  something 
partly  spectral.  I  had  moments  when  I  thought  of  him 
as  of  a  man  of  pasteboard — as  though,  if  one  should 
strike  smartly  through  the  buckram  of  his  countenance, 
there  would  be  found  a  mere  vacuity  within.  This 
horror  (not  merely  fanciful,  I  think)  vastly  increased  my 
detestation  of  his  neighbourhood;  I  began  to  feel  some- 
thing shiver  within  me  on  his  drawing  near  ;  I  had  at 
times  a  longing  to  cry  out ;  there  were  days  when  I 
thought  I  could  have  struck  him.  This  frame  of  mind 
was  doubtless  helped  by  shame,  because  I  had  dropped 


MR.    MACKELLAR'S   JOURNEY.  233 

during  our  last  days  at  Durrisdeer  into  a  certain  tolera- 
tion of  the  man  ;  and  if  anyone  had  then  told  me  I 
should  drop  into  it  again,  I  must  have  laughed  in  his 
face.  It  is  jiossible  he  remained  unconscious  of  this 
extreme  fever  of  my  resentment  ;  yet  I  think  he  was  too 
quick  ;  and  rather  that  he  had  fallen,  in  a  long  life  of 
idleness,  into  a  positive  need  of  company,  which  obliged 
him  to  confront  and  tolerate  my  unconcealed  aversion. 
Certain  at  least,  that  he  loved  the  note  of  his  own 
tongue,  as  indeed  he  entirely  loved  all  the  jjarts  and 
properties  of  himself  :  a  sort  of  imbecility  which  almost 
necessarily  attends  on  wickedness.  I  have  seen  liini 
driven,  when  I  proved  recalcitrant,  to  long  discourses 
with  the  skipper  :  and  this,  although  the  man  plainly 
testified  his  weariness,  fiddling  miserably  with  both  hand 
and  foot,  and  replying  only  with  a  grunt. 

After  the  first  week  out,  we  fell  in  with  foul  winds 
and  heavy  weather.  The  sea  was  high.  The  None- 
such, being  an  old-fashioned  ship  and  badly  loaden, 
rolled  beyond  belief  ;  so  that  the  skipper  trembled  for 
his  masts  and  I  for  my  life.  We  made  no  progress  on 
our  course.  An  unbearable  ill-humor  settled  on  the 
ship  :  men,  mates  and  master,  girding  at  one  another 
all  day  long.  A  saucy  word  on  the  one  hand,  and  a 
blow  on  the  other,  made  a  daily  incident.  There  were 
times  when  the  whole  crew  refused  their  duty;  and  we 
of  the  afterguard  were  twice  got  under  arms  (being 


234  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

the  first  tunc  that  ever  I  bore  weapons)  iu  the  fear  of 
mutiny. 

In  the  midst  of  our  evil  season  sprang  up  a  hurricane 
of  wind  ;  so  tliat  all  supposed  she  must  go  down.  I 
was  shut  iu  the  cabin  from  noon  of  one  day  till  sun- 
down of  the  next ;  the  Master  was  somewhere  lashed  on 
deck.  Secundra  had  eaten  of  some  drug  and  lay  insen- 
sible ;  so  you  may  say  I  passed  these  hours  in  an 
unbroken  solitude.  At  first  I  was  terrified  beyond 
motion  and  almost  beyond  thought,  my  mind  appearing 
to  be  frozen.  Presently  there  stole  in  on  me  a  ray  of 
comfort.  If  the  Nonesuch  foundered,  she  would  carry 
down  with  her  into  the  deeps  of  that  unsounded  sea  the 
creature  whom  we  all  so  feared  and  hated  ;  there  would 
be  no  more  Master  of  Ballantrae,  the  fish  would  sport 
among  his  ribs  ;  his  schemes  all  brought  to  nothing, 
his  harmless  enemies  at  peace.  At  first,  I  have  said,  it 
was  but  a  ray  of  comfort ;  but  it  had  soon  grown  to  be 
broad  sunshine.  The  thought  of  the  man's  death,  of 
his  deletion  from  this  world  which  he  embittered  for 
so  many,  took  possession  of  my  mind.  I  hugged  it,  I 
found  it  sweet  in  my  belly.  I  conceived  the  ship's  last 
plunge,  the  sea  bursting  upon  all  sides  into  the  cabin, 
the  brief  mortal  conflict  there,  all  by  myself,  in  that 
closed  place  ;  I  numbered  the  horrors,  I  had  almost 
said  with  satisfaction  ;  I  felt  I  could  bear  all  and  more, 
if  the  Nonesuch  carried  down  with  her,  overtook  by 
the  same  ruin,  the  enemy  of  my  poor  master's  house. 


MR.    MACKELLAR's   JOURNEY.  23L 

Towards  noon  of  tlie  second  day,  the  screaming  of  the 
wind  abated  ;  the  shijD  hiy  not  so  perilously  over  ;  and.  it 
began  to  be  clear  to  me  that  we  were  past  the  height  of 
the  tempest.  As  I  hope  for  mercy,  I  was  singly  dis- 
appointed. In  the  selfishness  of  that  vile,  absorbing 
passion  of  hatred,  I  forgot  the  case  of  our  innocent  ship- 
mates and  thought  but  of  myself  and  my  enemy.  For 
myself,  I  was  already  old,  I  had  never  been  young,  I 
was  not  formed  for  the  world's  pleasures,  I  had  few 
affections ;  it  mattered  not  the  toss  of  a  silver  tester 
whether  I  was  drowned  there  and  then  in  the  Atlantic, 
or  dribbled  out  a  few  more  years,  to  die,  perhaps  no  less 
terribly,  in  a  deserted  sick-bed.  Down  I  went  upon  my 
knees, — holding  on  by  the  locker,  or  else  I  had  been 
instantly  dashed  across  the  tossing  cabin, — and,  lift- 
ing up  my  voice  in  the  midst  of  that  clamour  of  the 
abating  hurricane,  impiously  prayed  for  my  own  death. 
*'  0  God,"  I  cried,  "  I  would  be  liker  a  man  if  I  rose 
and  struck  this  creature  down  ;  but  thou  madest  me 
a  coward  from  my  mother's  womb.  0  Lord,  thou 
madest  me  so,  thou  knowest  my  weakness,  thou  know- 
est  that  any  face  of  death  will  set  me  shaking  in  my 
shoes.  But  lo  !  here  is  thy  servant  ready,  his  mortal 
weakness  laid  aside.  Let  me  give  my  life  for  this 
creature's  ;  take  the  two  of  them,  Lord  !  take  the  two, 
and  have  mercy  on  the  innocent ! "  In  some  such 
words  as  these,  only  yet  more  irreverent  and  with  more 
sacred  adjurations,  I  continued  to  pour  forth  my  spirit; 


236  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTEAE, 

God  heard  me  not,  I  must  sujipose  in  mercy  ;  and  1 
was  still  absorbed  in  my  agony  of  supplication,  when 
some  one,  removing  the  tarpaulin  cover,  let  tlie  light  of 
tlie  sunset  pour  into  the  cabin.  I  stumbled  to  my  feet 
ashamed,  and  was  seized  with  surprise  to  fiud  myself 
totter  and  ache  like  one  that  had  been  stretched  upon 
the  rack.  Secundra  Dass,  who  had  slept  off  the  effects 
of  his  drug,  stood  in  a  corner  not  far  off,  gazing  at  me 
with  wild  eyes  ;  and  from  the  open  skylight  the  captain 
thanked  me  for  my  supplications. 

"It's  you  that  saved  the  ship,  Mr.  Mackellar,"  says 
he.  "There  is  no  craft  of  seamanship  that  could  have 
ke])t  her  floating:  well  may  we  say:  'Except  the  Lord 
the  city  keep,  the  watchmen  watch  in  vain  ! ' " 

I  was  abashed  by  the  captain's  error  ;  abashed,  also, 
by  the  surprise  and  fear  with  which  the  Indian  regarded 
me  at  first,  and  the  obsequious  civilities  with  which  he 
soon  began  to  cumber  me.  I  know  now  that  he  must 
have  overheard  and  com^jrehended  the  peculiar  nature 
of  my  prayers.  It  is  certain,  of  course,  that  he  at  once 
disclosed  the  matter  to  his  patron  ;  and  looking  back 
with  greater  knowledge,  I  can  now  understand,  what 
so  much  puzzled  me  at  the  moment,  those  singular  and 
(so  to  speak)  approving  smiles  with  which  the  Master 
honoured  me.  Similarly,  I  can  understand  a  word  that 
I  remember  to  have  fallen  from  him  in  conversation 
that  same  night ;  when,  holding  up  his  hand  and  smil-. 
ing,  "  Ab,  Mackellar,"  said  he,   ''not  every  man  is  so 


MR.    MACKELLAR'S   JOURNEY.  237 

great  a  coward  as  he  thinks  he  is — nor  yet  so  good  a 
Christian."  He  did  not  guess  how  true  he  spoke  !  For 
the  fact  is,  the  thoughts  which  had  come  to  me  in  the 
violence  of  the  storm  retained  their  hold  upon  my 
spirit ;  and  the  words  that  rose  to  my  lips  unhidden  in 
the  instancy  of  prayer  continued  to  sound  in  my  ears : 
With  what  shameful  consequences,  it  is  fitting  I  should 
honestly  relate  ;  for  I  could  not  support  a  part  of  such 
disloyalty  as  to  describe  the  sins  of  others  and  conceal 
my  own. 

The  wind  fell,  but  the  sea  hove  ever  the  higher.  All 
night  the  Nonesuch  rolled  outrageously  ;  the  next  day 
dawned,  and  the  next,  and  brought  no  change.  To 
cross  the  cabin  was  scarce  possible  ;  old,  experienced 
seamen  were  cast  down  upon  the  deck,  and  one  cruelly 
mauled  in  the  concussion  ;  every  board  and  block  in 
the  old  ship  cried  out  aloud  ;  and  the  great  bell  by  the 
anchor-bitts  continually  and  dolefully  rang.  One  of 
these  days  the  Master  and  I  sate  alone  together  at  the 
break  of  the  poop.  I  should  say  the  Nonesuch  carried  a 
high,  raised  poop.  About  the  top  of  it  ran  considera- 
ble bulwarks,  which  made  the  ship  unweatherly  ;  and 
these,  as  they  approached  the  front  on  each  side,  ran 
down  in  a  fine,  old-fashioned,  carven  scroll  to  join  the 
bulwarks  of  the  waist.  From  this  disposition,  which 
seems  designed  rather  for  ornament  tlian  use,  it  fol- 
lowed there  was  a  discontinuance  of  protection  :  and 
that,  besides,  at   the  very  margin  of  the  elevated  joart 


238  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

where  (in  certain  movements  of  the  sliip)  it  might  be 
the  most  needful.  It  was  hero  we  were  sitting  :  onr 
feet  hanging  down,  the  Master  betwixt  me  and  the  side, 
and  I  holding  on  with  both  hands  to  the  grating  of  the 
cabin  skylight ;  for  it  struck  me  it  was  a  dangerous  posi- 
tion, the  more  so  as  I  had  continnally  before  my  eyes  a 
measure  of  our  evolutions  in  the  person  of  the  ]\[aster, 
which  stood  out  in  the  break  of  the  bulwarks  against 
the  sun.  Now  his  head  would  be  in  the  zenith  and  his 
shadow  fall  quite  beyond  the  Nonesuch  on  the  further 
side  ;  and  now  ho  would  swing  down  till  he  was  under- 
neath my  feet,  and  the  line  of  the  sea  leaped  high  above 
him  like  the  ceiling  of  a  room.  I  looked  on  upon  this 
with  a  growing  fascination,  as  birds  are  said  to  look  on 
snakes.  My  mind  besides  was  troubled  with  an  aston- 
ishing diversity  of  noises  ;  for  now  that  we  had  all  sails 
spread  in  the  vain  hope  to  bring  her  to  the  sea,  the  ship 
sounded  like  a  factory  with  their  reverberations.  We 
spoke  first  of  the  mutiny  with  which  we  had  Ijcen 
threatened ;  this  led  us  on  to  the  topic  of  assassina- 
tion; and  that  offered  a  temptation  to  the  Master  more 
strong  than  he  was  able  to  resist.  He  must  tell  me  a 
tale,  and  show  me  at  the  same  time  how  clever  he  was 
and  how  wicked.  It  was  a  thing  he  did  always  with 
affectation  and  display ;  generally  with  a  good  effect. 
But  this  tale,  told  in  a  high  key  in  the  midst  of  so 
great  a  tumult,  and  by  a  narrator  who  was  one  moment 
looking  down  at  me  from  the  skies  and  the  next  peering 
16 


MR.    MACKELLAR's   JOURNEY.  239 

up  from  under  the  soles  of  my  feet — this  particular  tale, 
I  say,  took  hold  uiDon  me  in  a  degree  quite  singular. 

*'My  friend  the  count,"  it  was  thus  that  he  began 
his  story,  **had  for  an  enemy  a  certain  German  baron, 
a  stranger  in  Rome.  It  matters  not  what  was  the 
ground  of  the  count's  enmity ;  but  as  he  had  a  firm 
design  to  be  revenged,  and  that  with  safety  to  himself, 
he  kept  it  secret  even  from  the  baron.  Indeed  that  is 
the  first  principle  of  vengeance  ;  and  hatred  betrayed  is 
hatred  impotent.  The  count  was  a  man  of  a  curious, 
searching  mind  ;  he  had  something  of  the  artist  ;  if 
anything  fell  for  him  to  do,  it  must  always  be  done  with 
an  exact  perfection,  not  only  as  to  the  result  but  in  the 
very  means  aud  instruments,  or  he  thought  the  thing 
miscarried.  It  chanced  he  was  one  day  riding  in  the 
outer  suburbs,  when  he  came  to  a  disused  by-road 
branching  otf  into  the  moor  which  lies  about  Rome. 
On  the  one  hand  was  an  ancient  Roman  tomb  ;  on  the 
other  a  deserted  house  in  a  garden  of  evergreen  trees. 
This  road  brought  him  presently  into  a  field  of  ruins,  in 
the  midst  of  which,  in  the  side  of  a  hill,  he  saw  an  open 
door  and  (not  far  ofp)  a  single  stunted  pine  no  greater 
than  a  currant-bush.  The  place  was  desert  and  veiy 
secret :  a  voice  spoke  in  the  count's  bosom  that  there 
was  something  here  to  his  advantage.  He  tied  his  horse 
to  the  pine-tree,  took  his  flint  and  steel  in  his  hand  to 
make  a  light,  and  entered  into  the  hill.  The  doorway 
opened  on  a  passage   of  old   Roman  masonry,   which 


240  THE   MASTER  OF   BALLANTRAE. 

shortly  after  branched  in  two.  The  count  took  the 
turning  to  the  right,  and  followed  it,  groping  forward 
in  the  dark,  till  he  was  brought  up  by  a  kind  of  fence, 
about  elbow-high,  which  extended  quite  across  the  pas- 
sage. Sounding  forward  with  his  foot,  he  found  an 
edge  of  polished  stone,  and  then  vacancy.  All  his 
curiosity  was  now  awakened,  and,  getting  some  rotten 
sticks  that  lay  about  the  floor,  he  made  a  fire.  In  front 
of  him  was  a  profound  well  :  doubtless  some  neighbour- 
ing peasant  had  once  used  it  for  his  water,  and  it  was 
he  that  had  set  up  the  fence.  A  long  while  the  count 
stood  leaning  on  the  rail  and  looking  down  into  the 
pit.  It  was  of  Roman  foundation,  and,  like  all  that 
nation  set  their  hands  to,  built  as  for  eternity  :  the 
sides  were  still  straight  and  the  joints  smooth ;  to  a  man 
who  should  fall  in,  no  escape  was  possible.  'Now,' 
the  count  was  thinking,  'a  strong  impulsion  brought  me 
to  this  place  :  what  for  ?  what  have  I  gained  ?  why 
should  I  be  sent  to  gaze  into  this  well  ?' — when  the  rail 
of  the  fence  gave  suddenly  under  his  weight,  and  he 
came  within  an  ace  of  falling  headlong  in.  Leaping 
back  to  save  himself,  he  trod  out  the  last  flicker  of  his 
fire,  which  gave  him  thenceforward  no  more  light,  only 
an  incommoding  smoke.  'Was  I  sent  here  to  my 
death  ? '  says  he,  and  shook  from  head  to  foot.  And  then 
a  thought  flashed  in  his  mind.  He  crept  forth  on  hands 
and  knees  to  the  brink  of  the  pit  and  felt  above  him  in 
the  air.     The  rail  had  been  fast  to  a  pair  of  uprights  ; 


MR.   MACKELLAR's  JOURNEY.  241 

it  had  only  broken  from  tlie  one,  and  still  depended 
from  the  other.  The  count  set  it  back  again  as  he 
had  found  it,  so  that  the  place  meant  death  to  the  first 
comer ;  and  groped  out  of  the  catacomb  like  a  sick  man. 
The  next  day,  riding  in  the  Corso  with  the  baron,  he  pur- 
posely beti'ayed  a  strong  preoccupation.  The  other  (as 
he  had  designed)  inquired  into  the  cause  ;  and  he  (after 
some  fencing)  admitted  that  his  spirits  had  been  dashed 
by  an  unusual  dream.  This  was  calculated  to  draw  on 
tlie  baron, — a  superstitious  man  who  affected  the  scorn 
of  snjierstition.  Some  rallying  followed;  and  then  the 
count  (as  if  suddenly  carried  away)  called  on  his  friend 
to  beware,  for  it  was  of  him  that  he  had  dreamed.  You 
know  enough  of  human  nature,  my  excellent  Mackellar, 
to  be  certain  of  one  thing  :  I  mean,  that  the  baron  did 
not  rest  till  he  had  heard  the  dream.  The  count  (sure 
that  he  would  never  desist)  kept  him  in  play  till  his 
curiosity  was  highly  inflamed,  and  then  suffered  himself 
with  seeming  reluctance  to  be  overborne.  '1  warn 
you,'  says  he,  'evil  will  come  of  it ;  something  tells  me 
so.  But  since  there  is  to  be  no  peace  either  for  you  or 
me  except  on  this  condition,  the  blame  be  on  your  own 
head  !  This  was  the  dream.  I  beheld  you  riding,  I 
know  not  where,  yet  I  think  it  must  have  been  near 
Kome,  for  on  your  one  hand  was  an  ancient  tomb  and 
on  the  other  a  garden  of  evergreen  trees.  Methought  I 
cried  and  cried  upon  you  to  come  back  in  a  very  agony 
of  terror  ;  whether  you  heard  me,  I  know  not,  but  you 


242  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLAXTRAE. 

went  doggedly  on.  The  road  brought  you  to  a  desert 
place  among  rains  :  where  was  a  door  in  a  hillside,  and 
hard  by  the  door  a  misbegotten  pine.  Here  you  dis- 
mounted (I  still  crying  on  you  to  beware),  tied  your 
horse  to  the  pine-tree,  and  entered  resolutely  in  by  the 
door.  Within  it  was  dark  ;  but  in  my  dream  I  could 
still  see  you,  and  still  besought  you  to  hold  back.  You 
felt  your  way  along  the  right-hand  wall,  took  a  branch- 
ing passage  to  the  right,  and  came  to  a  little  chamber, 
where  was  a  well  with  a  railing.  At  this  (I  know  not 
why)  my  alarm  for  you  increased  a  thousandfold,  so 
that  I  seemed  to  scream  myself  hoarse  with  warnings, 
crying  it  was  still  time  and  bidding  you  begone  at  once 
from  that  vestibule.  Sucli  was  the  word  I  used  in  my 
dream,  and  it  seemed  then  to  have  a  clear  significancy  ; 
but  to-day  and  awake,  I  profess  I  know  not  what  it 
means.  To  all  my  outcry  you  rendered  not  the  least 
attention,  leaning  the  while  upon  the  rail  and  looking 
down  intently  in  the  water.  And  then  there  was  made 
to  you  a  communication,  I  do  not  think  I  even  gathered 
what  it  was,  but  the  fear  of  it  plucked  me  clean  out  of 
my  slumber,  and  I  awoke  shaking  and  sobbing.  And 
now,'  continues  the  count,  '  I  thank  you  from  my  heart 
for  your  insistancy.  This  dream  lay  on  me  like  a  load; 
and  now  I  have  told  it  in  plain  words  and  in  the  broad 
daylight,  it  seems  no  great  matter.' — ^I  do  not  know,' 
says  the  baron.  '  It  is  in  some  points  strange.  A  com- 
munication, did  you  say  ?     Oh,  it  is  an  odd  dream.     It 


MR.   MACKELLAR'S  JOURNEY.  243 

will  make  a  story  to  amuse  our  friends. ' — '  I  am  not  so 
sure/  says  the  count.  '  I  am  sensible  of  some  reluc- 
tancy.  Let  us  rather  forget  it.' — 'By  all  means,' says 
the  baron.  And  (in  fact)  the  dream  was  not  again 
referred  to.  Some  days  after,  the  count  proposed  a 
ride  in  the  fields,  which  the  baron  (since  they  were 
daily  growing  faster  friends)  very  readily  accepted.  On 
the  way  back  to  Eome,  the  count  led  them  insensibly  by 
a  particular  route.  Presently  he  reined  in  his  horse, 
clapped  his  hand  before  his  eyes,  and  cried  out  aloud. 
Then  he  showed  his  face  again  (which  was  now  quite 
white,  for  he  was  a  consummate  actor)  and  stared  upon 
the  baron.  '  What  ails  you  ?  '  cries  the  baron.  'What 
is  wrong  with  you  ?  ' — '  Nothing,'  cries  the  count.  '  It 
is  nothing.  A  seizure,  I  know  not  what.  Let  us  hurry 
back  to  Rome.'  But  in  the  meanwhile  the  baron  had 
looked  about  him  ;  and  there,  on  the  left-hand  side  of 
the  way  as  they  went  back  to  Eome,  he  saw  a  dusty 
by-road  with  a  tomb  upon  the  one  hand  and  a  garden  of 
evergreen  trees  upon  the  other. — 'Yes,'  says  he,  with  a 
changed  voice.  '  Let  us  by  all  means  hurry  back  to 
Rome.  I  fear  you  are  not  well  in  health.' — '  Oh,  for 
God's  sake  ! '  cries  the  count,  shuddering.  '  Back  to 
Rome  and  let  me  get  to  bed.'  They  made  their  return 
with  scarce  a  word  ;  and  the  count,  who  should  by 
rights  have  gone  into  society,  took  to  his  bed  and  gave 
out  he  had  a  touch  of  country  fever.  The  next  day  the 
baron's  horse  was  found  tied  to  the  pine,  but  himself 


244        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

was  never  heard  of  from  that  hour. — And  now,  was  that 
a  murder  ?  "  says  the  Master,  breaking  sharply  off. 

'*  Are  you  sure  he  was  a  count  ?  "  I  asked. 

''  I  am  not  certain  of  the  title,"  said  he,  '^  but  he  was 
a  gentleman  of  family  :  and  the  Lord  deliver  you,  Mac- 
kellar,  from  an  enemy  so  subtile  !  " 

These  last  words  he  spoke  down  at  me  smiling,  from 
high  above ;  the  next,  he  was  under  my  feet.  I  con- 
tinued to  follow  his  evolutions  with  a  childish  fi.:ity  ;* 
they  made  me  giddy  and  vacant,  and  I  spoke  as  in  a 
dream. 

"  He  hated  the  baron  with  a  great  hatred  ?  "  I  asked. 

''His  belly  moved  when  the  man  came  near  him," 
said  the  Master. 

"  I  have  felt  that  same,"  said  I. 

"  Verily  ! "  cries  the  Master.  *'  Here  is  news  indeed  ! 
I  wonder — do  I  flatter  myself  ?  or  am  I  the  cause  of 
these  ventral  perturbations  ?  " 

He  was  quite  capable  of  choosing  out  a  graceful  pos- 
ture, even  with  no  one  to  behold  him  but  myself,  and 
all  the  more  if  there  were  any  element  of  peril.  He 
sat  now  with  one  knee  flung  across  the  other,  his  arms 
on  his  bosom,  fitting  the  swing  of  the  ship  with  an 
exquisite  balance,  such  as  a  featherweight  might  over- 
throw. All  at  once  I  had  the  vision  of  my  lord  at  the 
table  Avith  his  head  upon  his  hands ;  only  now,  when  he 
showed  me  his  countenance,  it  was  heavy  with  reproach. 
The  words  of  my  own  prayer — /  were  liker  a  man  if  I 


I  WERE   I.IKElt  A   MAN   IF   I   STRUCK   THIS  CRKATURE  DOWN.' 


MR.    MACKELLAR's   JOURNEY.  245 

struck  this  creature  doivn — shot  at  the  same  time  into 
my  memory.  I  called  my  energies  together,  and  (the 
ship  then  heeling  downward  toward  my  enemy)  thrust 
at  him  swiftly  with  my  foot.  It  was  written  I  should 
have  the  guilt  of  this  attempt  without  the  profit. 
Whether  from  my  own  uncertainty  or  his  incredible 
quickness,  he  escaped  the  thrust,  leaping  to  his  feet 
and  catching  hold  at  the  sauie  moment  of  a  stay. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  a  time  passed  by  :  I  lying 
where  I  was  ujion  the  deck,  overcome  with  terror  and 
remorse  and  shame  :  he  standing  with  the  stay  in  his 
hand,  backed  against  the  bulwarks,  and  regarding  me 
with  an  expression  singularly  mingled.  At  last  he 
spoke. 

"  Mackellar,"  said  he,  "  I  make  no  reproaches,  but  1 
offer  you  a  bargain.  On  3'our  side,  I  do  not  suppose 
you  desire  to  have  this  exploit  made  public  ;  on  mine, 
1  own  to  you  freely  I  do  not  care  to  draw  my  breath  in 
a  perpetual  terror  of  assassination  by  the  man  I  sit  at 
meat  with.  Promise  me — but  no,"  says  he,  break- 
ing off,  "you  are  not  yet  in  the  quiet  possession  of 
your  mind  ;  you  might  think  I  had  extorted  the  prom- 
ise from  your  weakness  ;  and  I  would  leave  no  door 
open  for  casuistry  to  come  in — that  dishonesty  of  the 
conscientious.     Take  time  to  meditate." 

With  that  he  made  off  up  the  sliding  deck  like  a 
squirrel  and  plunged  into  the  cabin.  About  half  an 
hour  later  he  returned  :  I  still  lying  as  he  had  left  me. 


246  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE.  ' 

"  Now,"  says  he,  *'  will  you  give  me  your  troth  as  a 
Christiau  aud  a  faithful  servant  of  my  brother's,  that  1 
shall  have  no  more  to  fear  from  your  attempts  ?  " 

"  I  give  it  you/'  said  I. 

"  I  shall  require  your  hand  upon  it,"  says  he. 

"  You  have  the  right  to  make  conditions,"  I  replied, 
and  we  shook  hands. 

He  sat  down  at  once  in  the  same  place  and  the  old 
perilous  attitude. 

"  Hold  on  ! "  cried  I,  covering  my  eyes.  *'  I  cannot 
bear  to  see  you  in  that  posture.  The  least  irregularity 
of  the  sea  might  plunge  you  overboard." 

*'You  are  highly  inconsistent,"  he  replied,  smiling, 
but  doing  as  I  asked.  "  For  all  that,  Mackellar,  I 
would  have  you  to  know  you  have  risen  forty  feet  in  my 
esteem.  You  think  1  cannot  set  a  price  upon  fidelity  ? 
But  why  do  you  suppose  I  carry  that  Secundra  Dass 
about  the  world  with  me  ?  Because  he  would  die  or 
do  murder  for  me  to-morrow  ;  and  I  love  him  for  it. 
Well,  you  may  think  it  odd,  but  I  like  you  the  better 
for  this  afternoon's  performance.  I  thought  you  were 
magnetized  with  the  Ten  Commandments  ;  but  no — God 
damn  my  soul  !  " — he  cries,  "  the  old  wife  has  blood  in 
his  body  after  all  ! — Which  does  not  change  the  fact," 
he  continued,  smiling  again,  "  that  you  have  done  well 
to  give  your  promise  ;  for  I  doubt  if  you  would  ever 
shine  in  your  new  trade." 

*'I  suppose,"  said  I,  "I  should  ask  youi  pardon  and 


MR.    MACKELLAR's   JOURNEY.  247 

God's  for  my  attempt.  At  any  rate  I  liavc  passed  my 
word,  wliich  I  will  keep  faithfully.  But  when  I  think 
of  those  you  persecute "  I  paused. 

''Life  is  a  singular  thing,"  said  he,  "and  mankind  a 
very  singular  people.  You  suppose  yourself  to  love  my 
brother.  I  assure  you  it  is  merely  custom.  Interrogate 
your  memory  ;  and  when  first  you  came  to  Durrisdeer, 
you  will  find  you  considered  him  a  dull,  ordinary  youth. 
lie  is  as  dull  and  ordinary  now,  though  not  so  young. 
Had  you  instead  fallen  in  with  me,  you  would  to-day  be 
as  strong  upon  my  side." 

"I  would  never  say  you  were  ordinary,  Mr.  Bally,"  I 
returned  ;  "but  here  you  prove  yourself  dull.  You 
have  just  shown  your  reliance  on  my  word.  In  other 
terms,  that  is  my  conscience — the  same  which  starts 
instinctively  back  from  you,  like  the  eye  from  a  strong 
light." 

"Ah!"  says  he,  "but  I  mean  otherwise.  I  mean, 
had  I  met  you  in  my  youth.  You  are  to  consider  I  was 
not  always  as  I  am  to-day ;  nor  (had  I  met  in  with  a 
friend  of  your  description)  should  I  have  ever  been  so." 

"Hut,  Mr.  Bally,"  says  I,  "you  would  have  made  a 
mock  of  me — you  would  never  have  spent  ten  civil  words 
on  such  a  squaretoes." 

But  he  was  now  fairly  started  on  his  new  course  of 
justification,  with  which  he  wearied  me  throughout  the 
remainder  of  the  passage.  No  doubt  in  the  past  he  had 
taken  pleasure  to  paint  himself  unnecessarily  black,  and 


248  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

made  a  \aunt  of  his  wickedness,  bearing  it  for  a  coat  of 
arms.  Nor  was  he  so  illogical  as  to  abate  one  item  of 
his  old  confessions.  "  But  now  that  I  know  you  are  a 
liuman  being,"  he  would  say,  ''I  can  take  the  trouble 
to  explain  myself.  For  I  assure  you  I  am  human  too, 
and  have  my  virtues  like  my  neighbors."  I  say  he 
wearied  me,  for  I  had  only  the  one  word  to  say  in 
answer  :  twenty  times  I  must  have  said  it :  '•  Give  up 
your  present  purpose  and  return  with  me  to  Durrisdeer  ; 
then  I  will  believe  you." 

Thereupon  he  would  shako  his  head  at  me.  "Ah, 
Mackellar,  you  might  live  a  thousand  years  and  never 
vmderstand  my  nature,"  he  would  say.  ''This  battle  is 
now  committed,  the  hour  of  reflection  quite  past,  the 
hour  for  mercy  not  yet  come.  It  began  between  us  when 
we  span  a  coin  in  the  hall  of  Durrisdeer  now  twenty  years 
ago  ;  we  have  had  our  ups  and  dowjis,  but  never  either 
of  us  dreamed  of  giving  in  ;  and  as  for  me,  when  my 
glove  is  cast,  life  and  honour  go  with  it." 

"A  fig  for  your  honour!"  I  would  say.  "And  by 
your  leave,  these  warlike  similitudes  are  something  too 
high-sounding  for  the  matter  in  hand.  You  want  some 
dirty  money,  there  is  the  bottom  of  your  contention  ; 
and  as  for  your  means,  what  are  they  ? — to  stir  up  sorrow 
in  a  family  that  never  harmed  you,  to  debauch  (if  you 
can)  your  own  born  nephew,  and  to  wring  the  iieart  of 
your  born  brother  !  A  footpad  that  kills  an  old  granny 
in  a  woollen  mutch  with  a  dirty  bludgeon,  and  tiiat  for 


MR.   MACKELLAR'S   JOURNEY.  249 

a  shilling-piece  and  a  paper  of  suuff — there  is  all  the 
warrior  that  you  are." 

When  I  would  attack  him  thus  (or  somewhat  thus)  he 
would  smile  and  sigh  like  a  man  misunderstood.  Once, 
I  remember,  he  defended  himself  more  at  large,  and  had 
some  curious  sophistries,  worth  repeating  for  a  light 
upon  his  character. 

^'  You  are  very  like  a  civilian  to  think  war  consists  in 
drums  aud  banners,"  said  he.  "  War  (as  the  ancients 
said  very  wisely)  is  ultima  ratio.  When  we  take  our 
advantage  unrelentingly,  then  we  make  war.  Ah,  Mac- 
kellar,  you  are  a  devil  of  a  soldier  in  the  steward's  room 
at  Durrisdeer,  or  the  tenants  do  you  sad  injustice  !" 

"  I  think  little  of  what  war  is  or  is  not,"  I  replied. 
"  But  you  weary  me  with  claiming  my  respect.  Your 
brother  is  a  good  man,  and  you  are  a  bad  one — neither 
more  nor  less." 

"■  Had  I  been  Alexander "  he  began. 

''It  is  so  we  all  dupe  ourselves,"  I  cried.  ''Had  I 
been  St.  Paul,  it  would  have  been  all  one  ;  I  would  have 
made  the  same  hash  of  that  career  that  you  now  see  me 
making  of  my  own." 

"  I  tell  you,"  he  cried,  bearing  down  my  interruption, 
"had  I  been  the  least  petty  chieftain  in  the  highlands, 
had  I  been  the  least  king  of  naked  negroes  in  the  Afri- 
can desert,  my  people  would  have  adored  me.  A  bad 
man,  am  I  ?  Ah,  but  I  was  born  for  a  good  tyrant !  Ask 
Secundra  Dass  ;  he  will  tell  you  I  treat  him  like  a  sou. 


250  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE.  -' 

Cast  in  your  lot  with  me  to-morrow,  become  my  slave, 
my  chattel,  a  thing  I  can  command  as  I  command  the 
powers  of  my  own  limbs  and  spirit — you  will  see  no 
more  that  dark  side  that  I  turn  upon  the  world  in  anger. 
I  must  have  all  or  none.  But  where  all  is  given,  I  give 
it  back  with  usury,  I  have  a  kingly  nature  :  there  is 
my  loss  ! " 

"  It  has  been  hitherto  rather  the-  loss  of  others,"  I 
remarked  ;  "  which  seems  a  little  on  the  hither  side  of 
royalty." 

*' Tilly- vally  !"  cried  he.  "Even  now,  I  tell  you  I 
would  spare  that  family  in  which  you  take  so  great 
an  interest :  yes,  even  now, — to-morrow  I  would  leave 
them  to  their  petty  welfare,  and  disappear  in  that 
forest  of  cut-throats  and  thimbleriggers  that  we  call 
the  world.  I  would  do  it  to-morrow  I "  says  he. 
''Only— only " 

''Only  what?"  I  asked. 

"  Only  they  must  beg  it  on  their  bended  knees.  I 
think  in  public  too,"  he  added,  smiling.  "Indeed, 
Mackellar,  I  doubt  if  there  be  a  hall  big  enough  to 
serve  my  purpose  for  that  act  of  reparation." 

"  Vanity,  vanity  ! "  I  moralized.  "  To  think  that 
this  great  force  for  evil  should  be  swayed  by  the  same 
sentiment  that  sets  a  lassie  mincing  to  her  glass  !  " 

"  0,  there  are  double  words  for  everything  ;  the  word 
that  swells,  the  word  that  belittles  :  you  cannot  fight 
me  with  a  word  !  "  said  he.     "  You  said  the  other  day 


MR.    MACKELLAR's   JOURNEY.  251 

that  I  relied  on  yonr  conscience :  were  I  in  your 
humour  of  detraction,  I  might  say  I  built  upon  your 
vanity.  It  is  your  pretension  to  be  un  homme  de 
parole  ;  'tis  mine  not  to  accept  defeat.  Call  it  vanity, 
call  it  virtue,  call  it  greatness  of  soul — what  signifies 
the  expression  ?  But  recognize  in  each  of  us  a  com- 
mon strain  ;  that  we  both  live  for  an  idea." 

It  will  be  gathered  from  so  much  familiar  talk,  and 
so  mucli  patience  on  both  sides,  that  we  now  lived 
together  upon  excellent  terms.  Such  was  again  the 
fact,  and  this  time  more  seriously  than  before.  Apart 
from  disputations  such  as  that  wliich  I  have  tried  to 
reproduce,  not  only  consideration  reigned,  but  I  am 
tempted  to  say  even  kindness.  When  I  fell  sick  (as  I 
did  shortly  after  our  great  storm)  he  sat  by  my  berth 
to  entertain  me  with  his  conversation,  and  treated  me 
with  excellent  remedies,  which  I  accepted  with  security. 
Himself  commented  on  the  circumstance.  "You  see," 
says  he,  "  you  begin  to  know  me  better.  A  very  little 
while  ago,  upon  this  lonely  ship,  where  no  one  but 
myself  has  any  smattering  of  science,  you  would  have 
made  sure  I  had  designs  upon  your  life.  And  observe, 
it  is  since  I  found  you  had  designs  upon  my  own,  that 
I  have  sliown  you  most  respect.  You  will  tell  me  if 
this  speaks  of  a  small  mind."  I  found  little  to  reply. 
In  so  far  as  regarded  myself,  I  believed  him  to  mean 
well ;  I  am  perhaps  the  more  a  dupe  of  his  dissimu- 
lation,   but   I   believed    (and    I   still   believe)    that   he 


252  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

regarded  me  with  genuine  kindness.  Singular  and  sad 
fact  !  so  soon  as  this  cliange  began,  my  animosity 
abated,  and  these  liaunting  visions  of  my  master  passed 
utterly  away.  So  that,  perhaps,  there  was  truth  in  the 
man's  last  vaunting  word  to  me,  uttered  on  the  second 
day  of  July,  when  our  long  voyage  was  at  last  brought 
almost  to  an  end,  and  we  lay  becalmed  at  the  sea  end  of 
the  vast  harbour  of  New  York  in  a  gasping  heat  which 
was  presently  exchanged  for  a  surprising  waterfall  of 
rain.  I  stood  on  the  poop  regarding  the  gi'cen  shores 
near  at  hand,  and  now  and  then  the  light  smoke  of 
the  little  town,  our  destination.  And  as  I  was  even 
then  devising  how  to  steal  a  march  on  my  familiar 
enemy,  I  was  conscious  of  a  shade  of  embarrassment 
when  he  approached  me  with  his  hand  extended. 

"I  am  now  to  bid  you  farewell,"  said  he,  "and  that 
forever.  For  now  you  go  among  my  enemies,  where  all 
your  former  prejudices  will  revive.  I  never  yet  failed 
to  charm  a  person  wlien  I  wanted  ;  even  you,  my  good 
friend — to  call  you  so  for  once — even  you  have  now  a 
very  different  portrait  of  me  in  your  memory,  and  one 
that  you  will  never  quite  forget.  The  voyage  has  not 
lasted  long  enough,  or  I  should  have  wrote  the  impres- 
sion deeper.  But  now  all  is  at  an  end,  and  we  are 
again  at  war.  Judge  by  this  little  interlude  how  dan- 
gerous I  am  ;  and  tell  those  fools  " — pointing  with  his 
finger  to  the  town — "to  think  twice  and  thrice  before 
they  set  me  at  defiance." 


PASSAGES   AT   NEW  YORK. 

I  HAVE  mentioned  I  was  resolved  to  steal  a  march 
upon  the  Master  ;  and  this,  with  the  complicity  of  Cap- 
tain McMurtrie,  was  mighty  easily  effected  :  a  boat  being 
partly  loaded  on  the  one  side  of  our  ship  and  the  Mas- 
ter placed  on  board  of  it,  the  while  a  skiff  put  off  from 
the  other  carrying  me  alone.  I  had  no  more  trouble  in 
finding  a  direction  to  my  lord's  house,  whither  I  went 
at  top  speed,  and  which  I  found  to  be  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  place,  a  very  suitable  mansion,  in  a  fine  garden, 
with  an  extraordinary  large  barn,  byre  and  stable  all  in 
one.  It  was  here  my  lord  was  walking  when  I  arrived  ; 
indeed  it  had  become  his  chief  place  of  frequentation, 
and  his  mind  was  now  filled  with  farming.  I  burst  in 
upon  him  breathless,  and  gave  him  my  news  :  which  was 
indeed  no  news  at  all,  several  ships  having  outsailed  thg 
Nonesuch  in  the  interval. 

"We  have  been  expecting  you  long,"  said  my  loi'd  ; 
*'  and  indeed,  of  late  days,  ceased  to  expect  you  any 
more.  I  am  glad  to  take  your  hand  again,  Mackellar. 
I  thought  you  had  been  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea." 

*' Ah,  my  lord,  would  God  I  had  !"  cried  I.  "  Things 
would  have  been  better  for  yourself." 


254        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANIRAE. 

**  Not  in  the  least,"  says  he  grimly.  "  I  could  not  ask 
better.  There  is  a  long  score  to  pay,  and  now — at  last 
— I  can  begin  to  jwy  it." 

I  cried  out  against  his  security. 

"  0,"  says  he,  ''  this  is  not  Durrisdcer,  and  I  have 
taken  my  precautions.  His  reputation  awaits  him,  I 
have  prepared  a  welcome  for  my  brotlier.  Indeed  fortune 
has  served  me  ;  for  I  found  here  a  merchant  of  Albany 
"who  knew  him  after  the  '45  and  had  mighty  convenient 
suspicious  of  a  murder  :  some  one  of  the  name  of  Chew 
it  was,  another  Albanian.  No  one  here  will  be  surprised 
if  I  deny  him  my  door  ;  he  will  not  be  suffered  to 
address  my  children,  nor  even  to  salute  my  wife  :  as  for 
myself,  I  make  so  much  exception  for  a  brother  that  he 
may  speak  to  me.  I  should  lose  my  pleasure  else," 
says  my  lord,  rubbing  his  palms. 

Presently  he  bethought  himself,  and  set  men  off  run- 
ning, with  billets,  to  summon  the  magnates  of  the  prov- 
ince. I  cannot  recall  what  pretext  he  employed ;  at 
least  it  was  successful ;  and  wlien  our  ancient  enemy 
appeared  upon  the  scene,  he  found  my  lord  pacing  in 
front  of  his  house  under  some  trees  of  shade,  with  the 
governor  upon  one  hand  and  various  notables  uj^on  the 
other.  My  lady,  who  was  seated  in  the  verandah,  rose 
with  a  very  pinched  expression  and  carried  her  children 
into  the  house. 

The  Master,  well  dressed  and  with  an  elegant  walking- 
sword,  bowed  to  the  company  in  a  handsome  manner  and 


PASSAGES   AT   NEW   YORK.  255 

nodded  to  my  lord  with  familiarity.  My  lord  did  not 
accept  the  salutation,  but  looked  upon  his  brother  with 
bended  brows. 

"Well,  sir,"  says  he,  at  last,  "what  ill  wind  brings 
you  hither  of  all  places,  where  (to  our  common  disgrace) 
your  reputation  has  preceded  you  ?  " 

"  Your  lordship  is  pleased  to  be  civil,"  cries  the 
Master,  with  a  fine  start. 

"I  am  pleased  to  be  very  plain,"  returned  my  lord  ; 
"  because  it  is  needful  you  should  clearly  understand 
your  situation.  At  home,  where  you  were  so  little 
known,  it  was  still  j^ossible  to  keep  appearances  :  that 
would  be  quite  vain  in  this  province  ;  and  I  have  to 
tell  you  that  I  am  quite  resolved  to  wash  my  hands  of 
you.  You  have  already  ruined  me  almost  to  the  door, 
as  you  ruined  my  father  before  me  ; — whose  heart  you 
also  broke.  Your  crimes  escape  the  law ;  but  my 
friend  the  governor  has  promised  protection  to  my 
family.  Have  a  care,  sir  ! "  cries  my  lord,  shaking  his 
cane  at  him  :  "  if  you  are  observed  to  utter  two  words  to 
any  of  my  innocent  household,  the  law  shall  be  stretched 
to  make  you  smart  for  it." 

"Ah  !"  says  the  Master,  very  slowly.  "And  so  this 
is  the  advantage  of  a  foreign  land  !  These  gentlemen  are 
unacquainted  with  our  story,  I  perceive.  They  do  not 
know  that  I  am  the  Lord  Durrisdeer  ;  they  do  not  know 
you  are  my  younger  brother,  sitting  in  my  place  under  a 
sworn  family  compact ;  they  do  not  know  (or  they  would 


256        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

not  be  seen  with  you  in  familiar  correspondence)  that 
every  acre  is  mine  before  God  Almighty — and  every  doit 
of  tlie  money  you  withhold  from  me,  3'ou  do  it  as  a  thief, 
a  perjurer  and  a  disloyal  brother  ! " 

'^ General  Clinton,"  I  cried,  "do  not  listen  to  his 
lies.  I  am  the  steward  of  the  estate,  and  there  is  not 
one  word  of  truth  in  it.  The  man  is  a  forfeited  rebel 
turned  into  a  hired  spy  :  there  is  his  story  in  two  words." 

It  was  thus  that  (in  the  heat  of  the  moment)  I  let 
slip  his  infamy. 

**  Fellow,"  said  the  governor,  turning  his  face  sternly 
on  the  Master,  "  I  know  more  of  you  than  you  think 
for.  We  have  some  broken  ends  of  your  adventures  in 
the  provinces,  which  you  will  do  very  well  not  to  drive 
me  to  investigate.  There  is  the  disappearance  of  Mr. 
Jacob  Chew  with  all  his  merchandise  ;  there  is  the 
matter  of  where  you  came  asliore  from  with  so  much 
money  and  jewels,  when  you  were  picked  up  by  a  Ber- 
mudan  out  of  Albany.  Believe  rae,  if  I  let  these  mat- 
ters lie,  it  is  in  commiseration  for  your  family  and  out 
of  respect  for  my  valued  friend,  Lord  Durrisdeer. " 

There  was  a  murmur  of  applause  from  the  provin- 
cials. 

"  I  should  have  remembered  how  a  title  would  shine 
out  in  such  a  hole  as  this,"  says  the  Master,  white  as  a 
sheet :  "  no  matter  how  unjustly  come  by.  It  remains 
for  me  then  to  die  at  my  lord's  door,  where  my  dead 
body  will  form  a  very  cheerful  ornament." 


PASSAGES   AT  NEW   YORK.  267 

*'  Away  with  your  affectations ! "  cries  my  lord. 
*'  You  know  very  well  I  Iiave  no  sucli  meaning ;  only 
to  protect  myself  from  calumny  and  my  liome  from 
your  intrusion.  I  offer  you  a  choice.  Either  I  shall  pay 
your  passage  home  on  the  first  ship,  when  you  may 
perhaps  be  able  to  resume  your  occupations  under 
government,  although  God  knows  I  would  rather  see 
you  on  the  highway  !  Or,  if  that  likes  you  not,  stay 
here  and  welcome  !  I  have  inquired  the  least  sum  on 
which  body  and  soul  can  be  decently  kept  together  in 
New  York  ;  so  much  you  shall  have,  paid  weekly  ;  and 
if  you  cannot  labour  with  your  hands  to  better  it,  high 
time  you  should  betake  yourself  to  learn  !  The  condi- 
tion is,  that  you  speak  with  no  member  of  my  family 
except  myself,"  he  added. 

I  do  not  think  I  have  ever  seen  any  man  so  pale  as 
was  the  Muster  ;  but  he  was  erect  and  his  mouth  firm. 

"  I  have  been  met  here  with  some  very  unmerited 
insults,"  said  he,  ''from  which  I  have  certainly  no  idea 
to  take  refuge  by  flight.  Give  me  your  pittance  ;  I 
take  it  without  shame,  for  it  is  mine  already — like  the 
shirt  upon  your  back  ;  and  I  choose  to  stay  until  these 
gentlemen  shall  understand  me  better.  Already  they 
must  spy  the  cloven  hoof  ;  since  with  all  your  pretended 
eagerness  for  the  family  honour,  you  take  a  pleasure  to 
degrade  it  in  my  person." 

"This  is  all  very  fine,"  says  my  lord  ;  "  but  to  us  who 

know  you  of  old,  you  must  be  sure  it  signifies  nothing. 
17 


258        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTEAE. 

You  take  that  alternative  out  of  which  you  think  that 
you  can  make  the  most.  Take  it,  if  you  can,  in  silence: 
it  will  serve  you  better  in  the  long  run,  you  may  believe 
me,  than  this  ostentation  of  ingratitude." 

"  0,  gratitude,  my  lord  ! "  cries  the  Master,  with  a 
mounting  intonation  and  his  forefinger  very  conspicu- 
ously lifted  up.  "  Be  at  rest :  it  will  not  fail  you.  It 
now  remains  that  I  should  salute  these  gentlemen  whom 
we  have  wearied  with  our  family  affairs." 

And  he  bowed  to  each  in  succession,  settled  his  walk- 
ing-sword, and  took  himself  off,  leaving  every  one 
amazed  at  his  behaviour,  and  me  not  less  so  at  my  lord's. 

We  were  now  to  enter  on  a  changed  phase  of  this 
family  division.  Tlie  Master  was  by  no  manner  of 
means  so  helpless  as  my  lord  supposed,  having  at  his 
hand  and  entirely  devoted  to  his  service,  an  excellent 
artist  in  all  sorts  of  goldsmith  work.  With  my  lord's 
allowance,  which  was  not  so  scanty  as  he  had  described 
it,  the  pair  could  support  life ;  and  all  the  earnings  of 
Secundra  Dass  might  be  laid  upon  one  side  for  any 
future  purjiose.  That  this  was  done,  I  have  no  doubt. 
It  was  in  all  likelihood  the  Master's  design  to  gather  a 
snfficiency,  and  then  proceed  in  quest  of  that  treasure 
which  he  had  buried  long  before  among  the  mountains  ; 
to  which,  if  he  had  confined  himself,  he  would  have 
been  more  happily  inspired.  But  unfortunately  for 
himself  and   all  of  us,   he  took  counsel  of  his  anger. 


PASSAGES   AT  NEW   YORK.  259 

The  public  disgrace  of  his  arrival  (which  I  sometimes 

wouder   he   could  manage   to   survive)  raukled    in   his 

bones ;  he  was  in  that  humour  when  a  man  (in   the 

words  of  the  old  adage)  will  cut  off  his  nose  to  spite  his 

face  ;    and  he  must  make  himself  a  public  spectacle, 

in  the  hopes  that  some  of  the  disgrace  might  spatter 

on  my  lord. 

He  chose,  in  a  poor  quarter  of  the  town,  a  lonely, 

small  house  of  boards,    overhung  with   some  acacias. 

It  was  furnished  in  front  with  a  sort  of  hutch  openiug, 

like  tliat  of  a  dog's  kennel,  but  about  as  high  as  a  table 

from  the  ground,  in  which  the  poor  man  that  built  it 

had   formerly  displayed  some  wares  ;   and  it  was  this 

which  took  the  Master's  fancy  and  jDOSsibly  suggested 

his  proceedings.     It  appears,  on  Uoard  the  pirate  ship, 

he    had    acquired    some   quickness   with    the    needle : 

enough  at  least  to  play  the  part  of  tailor  in  the  public 

eye  ;  which  was  all  that  was  required  by  the  nature  of 

his  vengeance.     A  placard  was  hung  above  the  hutch, 

bearing  these  words  in  something  of  the  following  dis- 

•position : 

James  Durie 

FORMERLY  MASTER  OF  BALLANTEAE 

Clothes  Neatly  Clouted. 


SECUNDRA  DASS 

Decayed  Gentleman  of  India 

FINE    GOLDSMITH   WORK. 


260  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

Underneath  tbis,  when  he  had  a  job,  my  gentleman 
sat  withinside  tailor-wise  and  busily  stitching.  I  say, 
when  he  had  a  Job  ;  but  such  customers  as  came  were 
rather  for  Secundra,  and  the  Master's  sewing  would  be 
more  in  the  manner  of  Penelope's.  He  could  never 
have  designed  to  gain  even  butter  to  his  bread  by  such 
a  means  of  livelihood  :  enough  for  him,  that  there  was 
the  name  of  Durie  dragged  in  the  dirt  on  the  placard, 
and  the  sometime  heir  of  that  proud  family  set  up 
cross-legged  in  public  for  a  reproach  upon  his  brother's 
meanness.  And  in  so  far  his  device  succeeded,  that 
there  was  murmuring  in  the  town  and  a  i)arty  formed 
highly  inimical  to  my  lord.  My  lord's  favour  with  the 
governor  laid  him  more  open  on  the  other  side  ;  my 
lady  (who  was  never  so  well  received  in  the  colony) 
met  with  painful  innuendoes ;  in  a  party  of  women, 
where  it  would  be  the  topic  most  natural  to  introduce, 
she  was  almost  debarred  from  the  naming  of  needle- 
work ;  and  I  have  seen  her  return  with  a  flushed  coun- 
tenance and  vow  that  she  would  go  abroad  no  more. 

In  the  meanwhile,  my  lord  dwelled  in  his  decent 
mansion,  immersed  in  farming  :  a  popular  man  with 
his  intimates,  and  careless  or  unconscious  of  the  rest. 
He  laid  on  flesh  ;  had  a  bright,  busy  face  ;  even  the 
heat  seemed  to  prosper  with  him  ;  and  my  lady  (in 
despite  of  her  own  annoyances)  daily  blessed  heaven  her 
father  should  have  left  her  such  a  paradise.  She  had 
looked  on  from  a  window  upon  the  Master's  humilia- 


PASSAGES   AT  NEW  YOEK.  261 

tion  ;  and  from  that  hour  appeared  to  feel  at  ease.  I 
was  not  so  sure  myself ;  as  time  went  on  there  seemed 
to  me  a  something  not  quite  wholesome  in  my  lord's 
condition ;  happy  he  was,  beyond  a  doubt,  but  the 
grounds  of  this  felicity  were  secret ;  even  in  the  bosom 
of  his  family,  he  brooded  with  manifest  delight  upon 
some  private  thought  ;  and  I  conceived  at  last  the  sus- 
picion (quite  unworthy  of  us  both)  that  he  kept  a 
mistress  somewhere  in  the  town.  Yet  he  went  little 
abroad,  and  his  day  was  very  fully  occupied  ;  indeed 
there  was  but  a  single  period,  and  that  pretty  early  in 
the  morning  while  Mr.  Alexander  was  at  his  lesson- 
book,  of  which  I  v/as  not  certain  of  the  disposition. 
It  should  be  borne  in  mind,  in  the  defence  of  that 
"which  I  now  did,  that  I  was  always  in  some  fear  my 
lord  was  not  quite  justly  in  his  reason  ;  and  with  our 
enemy  sitting  so  still  in  the  same  town  with  us,  I  did 
well  to  be  upon  my  guard.  Accordingly  I  made  a  pre- 
text, had  the  hour  changed  at  which  I  taught  Mr.  Alex- 
ander the  foundation  of  cyphering  and  the  mathematic, 
and  set  myself  instead  to  dog  my  master's  footsteps. 

Every  morning,  fair  or  foul,  he  took  his  gold-headed 
cane,  set  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head — a  recent 
habitude,  which  I  thought  to  indicate  a  burning  brow — 
and  betook  himself  to  make  a  certain  circuit.  At  the 
first  his  way  was  among  pleasant  trees  and  beside  a 
graveyard,  where  he  would  sit  a  while,  if  the  day  were 
fine,  in  meditation.     Presently  the  path  turned  down  to 


262  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLAXTEAE.  , 

the  waterside  and  came  back  along  the  harbour  front 
and  past  the  Masters  booth.  As  he  approached  this 
second  part  of  his  circuit,  my  Lord  Durrisdeer  began 
to  pace  more  leisurely,  like  a  man  delighted  with  the 
air  and  scene  ;  and  before  the  booth,  half  way  between 
that  and  the  water's  edge,  would  pause  a  little  leaning 
on  his  staff.  It  was  the  hour  when  the  Master  sate 
within  upon  his  board  and  plied  his  needle.  So  these 
two  brothers  would  gaze  upon  each  other  with  hard 
faces  ;  and  then  my  lord  moye  on  again,  smiling  to 
himself. 

It  was  but  twice  that  I  must  stoop  to  that  ungrateful 
necessity  of  playing  spy.  I  was  then  certain  of  my 
lord's  purpose  in  his  rambles  and  of  the  secret  source 
of  his  delight.  Here  was  his  mistress  :  it  was  hatred 
and  not  love  that  gave  him  healthful  colours.  Some 
moralists  might  have  been  relieved  by  the  discovery,  I 
confess  that  I  was  dismayed.  I  found  this  situation  of 
two  brethren  not  only  odious  in  itself,  but  big  with 
possibilities  of  further  evil  ;  and  I  made  it  my  practice, 
in  so  far  as  many  occupations  would  allow,  to  go  by  a 
shorter  path  and  be  secretly  present  at  their  meeting. 
Coming  down  one  day  a  little  late,  after  I  had  been 
near  a  week  preven*  d,  I  was  struck  with  surprise  to 
find  a  new  development.  I  should  say  there  was  a 
bench  against  the  Master's  house,  where  customers 
might  sit  to  parley  with  the  shopman  ;  and  here  I 
found  my  lord  seated,  nuising  his  cane  and   looking 


NEITHER    SI'OKE;     NOIt    DID    MY    LOliU    SO    MUCH    AS    CAST    A    (il.ANCK 
UPON   HIS  ENEMY. 


PASSAGES   AT   NEW   YORK.  268 

pleasantly  forth  upon  the  bay.  Not  three  feet  from 
him  sate  the  Master  stitching.  Neither  spoke ;  nor  (in 
this  new  situation)  did  my  lord  so  much  as  cast  a  glance 
upon  his  enemy.  He  tasted  his  neighbourhood,  I  must 
suppose,  less  indirectly  in  the  bare  proximity  of  person; 
and  without  doubt,  drank  deep  of  hateful  pleasures. 

He  had  no  sooner  come  away  than  I  openly  Joined  him. 

"My  lord,  my  lord,"  said  I,  "this  is  no  manner  of 
behaviour." 

"  I  grow  fat  upon  it,"  he  replied  ;  and  not  merely  the 
words,  which  were  strange  enough,  but  the  whole  char- 
acter of  his  expression  shocked  me. 

"  I  warn  you,  my  lord,  against  this  indulgency  of  evil 
feeling,"  said  I.  "I  know  not  to  which  it  is  more 
perilous,  the  soul  or  the  reason  :  but  you  go  the  way  to 
murder  both." 

"  You  cannot  understand,"  said  he.  "You  had  never 
such  mountains  of  bitterness  upon  your  heart." 

"And  if  it  were  no  more,"  I  added,  "  you  will  surely 
goad  the  man  to  some  extremity." 

"  To  the  contrary  :  I  am  breaking  his  spirit,"  says  my 
lord. 

Every  morning  for  hard  upon  a  week,  my  lord  took 
his  same  place  upon  the  bench.  It  was  a  pleasant  place, 
under  the  green  acacias,  with  a  sight  upon  the  bay  and 
shipping,  and  a  sound  (from  some  way  off)  of  mariners 
singing  at   their  employ.     Here  the  two  sate  without 


26-i  THE   MASTER   OF  BALL  ANTE  AE. 

speech  or  any  external  movement,  beyond  that  of  the 
needle  or  the  Master  biting  off  a  thread,  for  he  still 
clung  to  his  pretence  of  industry ;  and  here  I  made  a 
point  to  join  them,  wondering  at  myself  and  my  com- 
panions. If  any  of  my  lord's  friends  went  by,  he  would 
hail  them  cheerfully,  and  cry  out  he  was  there  to  give 
some  good  advice  to  his  brother,  who  was  now  (to  his 
delight)  grown  quite  industrious.  And  even  this,  the 
Master  accepted  with  a  steady  countenance  :  what  was 
in  his  mind,  God  knows,  or  perhaps  Satan  only. 

AH  of  a  sudden,  on  a  still  day  of  what  they  call  the 
Indian  Summer,  when  the  woods  were  changed  into 
gold  and  pink  and  scarlet,  the  Master  laid  down  his 
needle  and  burst  into  a  fit  of  merriment.  I  think  he 
must  have  been  preparing  it  a  long  while  in  silence, 
for  the  note  in  itself  was  pretty  naturally  pitched  ;  but 
breaking  suddenly  from  so  extreme  a  silence  and  in  cir- 
cumstances so  averse  from  mirth,  it  sounded  ominously 
on  my  ear. 

"  Henry,"  said  he,  "  I  have  for  once  made  a  false  step, 
and  for  once  you  have  had  the  wit  to  profit  by  it.  The 
farce  of  the  cobbler  ends  to-day  ;  and  I  confess  to  you 
(with  my  compliments)  that  you  have  had  the  best  of  it. 
Blood  will  out  ;  and  you  have  certainly  a  choice  idea  of 
how  to  make  yourself  unpleasant." 

Never  a  word  said  my  lord  ;  it  was  just  as  though  the 
Master  had  not  broken  silence. 

"Come/'  resumed  the  Master,  "do  not  be  sulky,  it 


PASSAGES   AT  NEW   YORK.  265 

will  spoil  your  attitude.  You  can  now  afford  (believe 
me)  to  be  a  little  gracious  ;  for  I  have  not  merely  a  de- 
feat to  accept,  I  bad  meant  to  continue  this  perform- 
ance till  I  had  gathered  enough  money  for  a  certain 
purpose ;  I  confess  ingenuously,  I  have  not  the  courage. 
You  naturally  desire  my  absence  from  this  town  ;  I 
have  come  round  by  another  way  to  the  same  idea.  And 
I  have  a  proposition  to  make ;  or  if  your  lordship  pre- 
fers, a  favour  to  ask." 

"  Ask  it,"  says  my  lord. 

"You  may  have  heard  that  I  had  once  in  this  country 
a  considerable  treasure,"  returned  the  Master  :  "it  mat- 
ters not  whether  or  no — such  is  the  fact ;  and  I  was 
obliged  to  bury  it  in  a  spot  of  whicli  I  have  sufficient 
indications.  To  the  recovery  of  this,  has  my  ambition 
now  come  down  ;  and  as  it  is  my  own,  you  will  not 
grudge  it  me." 

"  Go  and  get  it,"  says  my  lord.  "  I  make  no  opposi- 
tion." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Master,  "but  to  do  so  I  must  find 
men  and  carriage.  The  way  is  long  and  rough,  and  the 
country  infested  with  wild  Indians.  Advance  me  only 
so  much  as  shall  be  needful :  either  as  a  lump  sum,  in 
lieu  of  my  allowance  ;  or  if  you  prefer  it,  as  a  loan, 
whicli  I  shall  repay  on  my  return.  And  then,  if  you  so 
decide,  you  may  have  seen  the  last  of  me." 

My  lord  stared  him  steadily  in  the  eyes ;  there  was  a 
hard  smile  upon  his  face,  but  he  uttered  nothing. 


266  THE  MASTER   OF   BALLA^'TRAE. 

"Henry,"  said  the  Master,  with  a  formidable  quiet- 
ness, and  drawing  at  the  same  time  somewhat  back — 
"  Henry,  I  had  the  honour  to  address  you." 

'•'  Let  us  be  stepping  homeward,"  says  my  lord  to  me, 
who  was  plucking  at  his  sleeve  ;  and  with  that  he  rose, 
stretched  himself,  settled  his  hat,  and  still  without  a 
syllable  of  response,  began  to  walk  steadily  along  the 
shore. 

I  hesitated  awhile  between  the  two  brothers,  so  serious 
a  climax  did  we  seem  to  have  reached.  But  tlie  Master 
had  resumed  his  occupation,  his  eyes  lowered,  his  hand 
seemingly  as  deft  as  ever ;  and  I  decided  to  pursue  my 
lord. 

"Are  you  mad  ?  "  I  cried,  so  soon  as  I  had  overtook 
him.     "Would  you  cast  away  so  fair  an  opportunity  ?  " 

"Is  it  possible  you  should  still  believe  in  him?" 
inquired  my  lord,  almost  with  a  sneer. 

"  I  wish  him  forth  of  this  town,"  I  cried.  "  I  wish 
him  anywhere  and  anyhow  but  as  he  is." 

"I  have  said  my  say,"  returned  my  lord,  "and  you 
have  said  yours.     There  let  it  rest." 

But  I  was  bent  on  dislodging  the  Master.  That 
sight  of  him  patiently  returning  to  his  needlework  was 
more  than  my  imagination  could  digest.  There  was 
never  a  man  made,  and  the  Master  the  least  of  any,  that 
could  accept  so  long  a  series  of  insults.  The  air  smelt 
blood  to  me.  And  I  vowed  there  should  be  no  neglect 
of   mine   if,  through    any   chink   of   possibility,  crime 


PASSAGES   AT  NEW   YORK.  267 

could  be  yet  turned  aside.  That  same  day,  therefore, 
I  came  to  my  lord  in  his  business  room,  where  he  sat 
upon  some  trivial  occupation. 

"  My  lord,"  said  I,  "  I  have  found  a  suitable  invest- 
ment for  my  small  economies.  But  these  are  unhap- 
pily in  Scotland  ;  it  will  take  some  time  to  lift  them, 
and  the  affair  presses.  Gould  your  lordship  see  his  way 
to  advance  me  the  amount  against  my  note  ?  " 

He  read  me  awhile  with  keen  eyes.  "  I  have  never 
inquired  into  the  state  of  your  affairs,  Mackellar,"  says 
he.  "Beyond  the  amount  of  your  caution,  you  may 
not  be  worth  a  farthing,  for  what  I  know." 

*'  I  have  been  a  long  while  in  your  service,  and  never 
told  a  lie,  nor  yet  asked  a  favour  for  myself,"  said  I, 
"until  to-day." 

"A  favour  for  tlie  Master,"  he  returned  quietly. 
"  Do  you  take  me  for  a  fool,  Mackellar  ?  Understand 
it  once  and  for  all ;  I  treat  this  beast  in  my  own  way; 
fear  nor  favour  shall  not  move  me ;  and  before  I  am 
hoodwinked,  it  will  require  a  trickster  less  transparent 
than  yourself.  I  ask  service,  loyal  service  ;  not  that 
you  should  make  and  mar  behind  my  back,  and  steal 
my  own  money  to  defeat  me." 

"My  lord,"  said  I,  "these  are  very  unpardonable 
expressions." 

"  Think  once  more,  Mackellar,"  he  replied  ;  "  and 
you  will  see  they  fit  the  fact.  It  is  your  own  subter- 
fuge that  is  unpardonable.     Deny  (if  you  can)  that  you 


268  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

designed  this  money  to  evade  my  orders  with,  and  I  will 
ask  your  pardon  freely.  If  you  cannot,  you  must  have 
the  resolution  to  hear  your  conduct  go  by  its  own  name." 

"  If  you  think  I  had  any  design  but  to  save  you  .  .  ." 
I  began. 

"^0,  my  old  friend,"  said  he,  "you  know  very  well 
what  I  think  !  Here  is  my  hand  to  you  with  all  my 
heart ;  but  of  money,  not  one  rap. " 

Defeated  upon  this  side,  I  went  straight  to  my  room, 
wrote  a  letter,  ran  with  it  to  the  harbour,  for  I  knew 
a  ship  was  on  the  point  of  sailing  :  and  came  to  the 
Master's  door  a  little  before  dusk.  Entering  without 
the  form  of  any  knock,  I  found  him  sitting  Avith  his 
Indian  at  a  simple  meal  of  maize  porridge  with  some 
milk.  The  house  within  was  clean  and  poor  ;  only  a 
few  books  upon  a  shelf  distinguished  it,  and  (in  one 
corner)  Secuudra's  little  bench. 

*' Mr.  Bally,"  said  I,  "I  have  near  five  hundred 
pounds  laid  by  in  Scotland,  the  economies  of  a  hard  life. 
A  letter  goes  by  yon  ship  to  have  it  lifted  ;  have  so 
much  patience  till  the  return  ship  comes  in,  and  it  is  all 
yours,  upon  the  same  condition  you  offered  to  my  lord 
this  morning." 

He  rose  from  the  table,  came  forward,  took  me  by 
the  shoulders,  and  looked  me  in  the  face,  smiling. 

*'  And  yet  you  are  very  fond  of  money  ! "  said  he. 
"  And  yet  you  love  money  beyond  all  things  else, 
except  my  brother  1  " 


PASSAGES   AT   NEW   YORK.  269 

*' I  fear  old  age  and  poverty,"  said  I,  "which  is 
another  matter." 

''I  will  never  quarrel  for  a  name.  Call  it  so  !"  he 
replied.  "  Ah,  Mackellar,  Mackellar,  if  this  were  done 
from  any  love  to  me,  how  gladly  would  I  close  upon 
your  offer  ! " 

"And  yet,"  I  eagerly  answered —  "I  say  it  to  my 
shame,  but  I  cannot  see  you  in  this  poor  place  without 
compunction.  It  is  not  my  single  thought,  nor  my 
first ;  and  yet  it's  there  !  I  would  gladly  see  you  deliv- 
ered. I  do  not  offer  it  in  love,  and  far  from  that ;  but 
as  God  judges  me — and  I  wonder  at  it  too  ! — quite  with- 
out enmity." 

"Ah,"  says  he,  still  holding  my  shoulders  and  now 
gently  shaking  me,  "you  think  of  me  more  than  you 
suppose.  '  And  I  wonder  at  it  too,'  "  he  added,  repeat- 
ing my  expression  and  I  suppose  something  of  my  voice. 
"You  are  an  honest  man,  and  for  that  cause  I  spare  you." 

"  Spare  me  ?  "  I  cried. 

"  Spare  you,"  he  repeated,  letting  me  go  and  turning 
away.  And  then,  fronting  me  once  more  :  "  You  little 
know  what  I  would  do  with  it,  Mackellar !  Did  you 
think  I  had  swallowed  my  defeat  indeed  ?  Listen  :  my 
life  has  been  a  scries  of  unmerited  cast-backs.  That 
fool.  Prince  Charlie,  mismanaged  a  most  promising 
affair  :  there  fell  my  first  fortune.  In  Paris  I  had  my 
foot  once  more  high  upon  thelladder  :  that  time  it  was 
an  accident,  a  letter  came  to  the  wrong  hand,  and  I  was 


270  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLA2s"TRAE. 

bare  again.  A  third  time,  I  found  my  opportunity ; 
I  built  up  a  place  for  myself  in  India  with  an  infinite 
patience  ;  and  then  Clive  came,  my  rajah  was  swallowed 
up,  and  I  escaped  out  of  the  convulsion,  like  another 
^neas,  with  Secundra  Dass  upon  my  back.  Three  times 
I  have  had  my  hand  upon  the  highest  station  ;  and  I  am 
not  yet  three  and  forty.  I  know  the  world  as  few  men 
know  it  when  they  come  to  die,  court  and  camp,  the 
east  and  the  west ;  I  know  where  to  go,  I  see  a  thou- 
sand openings.  I  am  now  at  the  height  of  my  resources, 
sound  of  health,  of  inordinate  ambition.  Well,  all  this 
I  resign;  I  care  not  if  I  die  and  the  world  never  hear  of 
me  ;  I  care  only  for  one  thing,  and  that  I  will  have. 
Mind  yourself  :  lest,  when  the  roof  falls,  you  too  should 
be  crushed  under  the  ruins." 

As  I  came  out  of  his  house,  all  hope  of  intervention 
quite  destroyed,  I  was  aware  of  a  stir  on  the  harbour 
side,  and  raising  my  eyes,  there  was  a  great  ship  newly 
come  to  anchor.  It  seems  strange  I  could  have  looked 
upon  her  with  so  much  indifference,  for  she  brougjit 
death  to  the  brothers  of  Durrisdeer.  After  all  the  des- 
perate episodes  of  this  contention,  the  insults,  the  ojDpos- 
ing  interests,  the  fraternal  duel  in  the  shrubbery,  it  was 
reserved  for  some  poor  devil  in  Grub  Street,  scribbling 
for  his  dinner  and  not  caring  what  he  scribbled,  to 
cast  a  spell  across  four  thousand  miles  of  the  salt  sea, 
and  send  forth   both  these  brothers   into  savage  and 


PASSAGES    AT   NEW   YORK.  271 

wintry  deserts,  there  to  die.  But  such  a  thought  was 
distant  from  my  mind ;  and  while  all  the  provincials 
were  fluttered  about  me  by  the  unusual  animation  of 
their  jjort,  I  passed  throughout  their  midst  on  my 
return  homeward,  quite  absorbed  in  the  recollection  of 
my  yisit  and  the  Muster's  speech. 

The  same  night  there  was  brought  to  us  from  the 
ship  a  little  packet  of  pamphlets.  The  next  day,  my 
lord  was  under  engagement  to  go  with  the  goyernor 
upou  some  party  of  pleasure  ;  the  time  was  nearly  due, 
and  I  left  him  for  a  moment  alone  in  his  room  and 
skimming  through  the  pamphlets.  When  I  returned 
his  head  had  fallen  upon  the  table,  his  arms  lying  abroad 
amongst  the  crumpled  papers. 

"  My  lord,  my  lord  !  "  I  cried  as  I  ran  forward,  for  I 
supposed  he  was  in  some  fit. 

He  sprang  up  like  a  figure  upon  wires,  his  counte- 
nance deformed  with  fury,  so  that  in  a  strange  place  I 
should  scarce  have  known  him.  His  hand  at  the  same 
time  flew  above  his  head,  as  though  to  strike  me  down. 
"  Leave  me  alone  ! "  he  screeched  ;  and  I  fled,  as  f&st 
as  my  shaking  legs  would  bear  me,  for  my  lady.  She 
too  lost  no  time  ;  but  when  we  returned  he  had  the  door 
locked  within,  and  only  cried  to  us  from  the  other  side 
to  leave  him  be.  We  looked  in  each  otiiers  faces,  very 
white  :  each  supposing  the  blow  had  come  at  last. 

"I  will  write  to  the  governor  to  excuse  him,"  says 
she.     '''We  must  keep  our  strong  friends."     But  when 


272  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

ehe  took  up  the  pen,  it  flew  out  of  her  fingers.  "I 
cannot  write,"  said  she.     *'Can  you  ?" 

"  I  will  make  a  shift,  my  lady,"  said  I. 

She  looked  over  me  as  I  wrote.  "■  That  will  do,"  she 
said,  when  I  had  done.  "  Thank  God,  Mackellar,  I  have 
you  to  lean  upon  !  But  what  can  it  be  now  ?  what, 
what  can  it  be  ?  " 

In  my  own  mind,  I  belieTed  there  was  no  explanation 
possible  and  none  required  :  it  was  my  fear  that  the 
man's  madness  had  now  simply  burst  forth  its  way,  like 
the  long  smothered  flames  of  a  yolcano  ;  but  to  this  (in 
mere  mercy  to  my  lady)  I  durst  not  give  expression. 

"  It  is  more  to  the  purpose  to  consider  our  own  behav- 
iour," said  I.     "  Must  we  leave  him  there  alone  ?  " 

''  I  do  not  dare  disturb  him,"  she  replied.  "  Nature 
may  know  best ;  it  may  be  nature  that  cries  to  be  alone  ; 
— and  we  grope  in  the  dark.  0  yes,  I  would  leave  him 
as  he  is." 

''  I  will  then  despatch  this  letter,  my  lady,  and  return 
here,  if  you  please,  to  sit  with  you,"  said  I. 

"  Pray  do,"  cries  my  lady. 

All  afternoon  we  sat  together,  mostly  in  silence, 
watching  my  lord's  door.  My  own  mind  was  busy  with 
the  scene  that  hud  just  passed,  and  its  singular  resem- 
blance to  my  vision.  I  must  say  a  word  upon  this,  for 
the  story  has  gone  abroad  with  great  exaggeration,  and 
1  have  even  seen  it  printed  and  my  own  name  referred  to 
for  particulars.     So  much  was  the  same  :    here  was  my 


PASSAGES   AT  NEW  YORK.  273 

lord  in  a  room,  with  his  head  upon  the  table,  and  when 
he  raised  his  face,  it  wore  such  an  expression  as  distressed 
me  to  the  soul.  But  the  room  was  different,  my  lord's 
attitude  at  the  table  not  at  all  the  same,  and  his  face, 
when  he  disclosed  it,  expressed  a  painful  degree  of  fury 
instead  of  that  haunting  despair  which  had  always  (except 
once,  already  referred  to)  characterized  it  in  the  vision. 
There  is  the  whole  truth  at  last  before  the  public  ;  and  if 
the  differences  be  great,  the  coincidence  was  yet  enough 
to  fill  me  with  uneasiness.  All  afternoon,  as  I  say,  I 
sat  and  jJondered  upon  this  quite  to  myself  ;  for  my  lady 
had  trouble  of  her  own,  and  it  was  my  last  thought  to 
vex  her  with  fancies.  About  the  midst  of  our  time  of 
waiting,  she  conceived  an  ingenious  scheme,  had  Mr. 
Alexander  fetched  and  bid  him  knock  at  his  father's 
door.  My  lord  sent  the  boy  about  his  business,  but  with- 
out the  least  violence  whether  of  manner  or  expression  ; 
so  that  I  began  to  entertain  a  hope  the  fit  was  over. 

At  last,  as  the  night  fell  and  I  was  lighting  a  lamp  that 
stood  there  trimmed,  the  door  opened  and  my  lord  stood 
within  upon  the  threshold.  The  light  was  not  so  strong 
that  we  could  read  his  countenance ;  when  he  spoke, 
methought  his  voice  a  little  altered  but  yet  perfectly 
steady. 

"Mackellar,"  said  he,  ^'  carry  this  note  to  its  destina- 
tion with  your  own  hand.  It  is  highly  private.  Find 
the  person  alone  when  you  deliver  it." 

"Henry,"  says  my  lady,  '^you  are  not  ill  ?" 
'  18 


274  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLA^'TEAE. 

"Ho,  no,"  says  he,  querulously,  "1  am  occupied. 
Not  at  all ;  I  am  only  occupied.  It  is  a  singular  thing 
a  man  must  be  supposed  to  be  ill  when  he  has  any  busi- 
ness !  Send  me  suj^per  to  this  room,  and  a  basket  ot 
wine  :  I  exj^ect  the  visit  of  a  friend.  Otherwise  I  am 
not  to  be  disturbed." 

And  with  that  he  once  more  shut  himself  in. 

The  note  was  addressed  to  one  Captain  Harris,  at  a 
tavern  on  the  portside.  I  knew  Harris  (by  reputation) 
for  a  dangerous  adventurer,  highly  suspected  of  piracy 
in  the  past,  and  now  following  the  rude  business  of  an 
Indian  trader.  AYhat  my  lord  should  have  to  say  to 
him,  or  he  to  my  lord,  it  passed  my  imagination  to  con- 
ceive :  or  yet  how  my  lord  had  heard  of  him,  unless  by 
a  disgraceful  trial  from  which  the  man  was  recently 
escaped.  Altogether  I  went  upon  the  errand  with  reluc- 
tance, and  from  the  little  I  saw  of  the  captain,  returned 
from  it  with  sorrow.  I  found  him  in  a  foul-smclling 
chamber,  sitting  by  a  guttering  candle  and  an  empty 
bottle;  he  had  the  remains  of  a  military  carriage,  or 
rather  perhaps  it  was  an  affectation,  for  his  manners 
were  low. 

"Tell  my  lord,  with  my  service,  that  I  will  wait  upon 
his  lordship  in  the  inside  of  half  an  hour,"  says  he, 
when  he  had  read  the  note  ;  and  then  had  the  servility, 
pointing  to  his  empty  bottle,  to  propose  that  I  should 
buy  him  liquor. 

Although  I  returned  with  my  best  speed,  the  Captain 


PASSAGES   AT    NEW   YORK.  275 

followed  close  upon  my  heels,  and  lie  stayed  late  into  the 
night.  The  cock  was  crowing  a  second  time  when  I  saw 
(from  my  chamber  window)  my  lord  lighting  him  to  the 
gate,  both  men  very  much  affected  with  their  potations 
and  sometimes  leaning  one  upon  the  other  to  confabulate. 
Yet  tlie  next  morning  my  lord  was  abroad  again  early 
with  a  hundred  pounds  of  money  in  his  pocket.  I  never 
supposed  that  he  returned  with  it ;  and  yet  I  was  quite 
sure  it  did  not  find  its  way  to  the  Master,  for  I  lingered 
all  morning  within  view  of  the  booth.  That  was  the  last 
time  my  Lord  Durrisdeer  passed  his  own  enclosure  till 
we  left  New  York  ;  he  walked  in  his  barn  or  sat  and 
talked  w^ith  his  family,  all  much  as  usual ;  but  the  town 
saw  nothing  of  him,  and  his  daily  visits  to  the  Master 
seemed  forgotten.  Nor  yet  did  Harris  reappear;  or  not 
until  the  end. 

I  was  now  much  oppi^essed  with  a  sense  of  the  mys- 
teries in  which  we  had  begun  to  move.  It  was  plain, 
if  only  from  his  change  of  habitude,  my  lord  had  some- 
tliing  on  his  mind  of  a  grave  nature  ;  but  what  it  was, 
whence  it  sprang,  or  why  he  should  now  keep  the  house 
and  garden,  I  could  make  no  guess  at.  It  was  clear, 
even  to  probation,  the  pamphlets  had  some  share  in  this 
revolution  ;  I  read  all  I  could  find,  and  they  were  all 
extremely  insignificant  and  of  the  usual  kind  of  party 
scurrility  ;  even  to  a  high  politician,  I  could  spy  out  no 
particular  matter  of  offence,  and  my  lord  was  a  man 
rather  indifferent  on  public  questions.     The  truth  is, 


276        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

the  pamphlet  which  was  the  spring  of  this  affair,  lay 
all  the  time  on  my  lord's  bosom.  There  it  was  that 
I  found  it  at  last,  after  he  was  dead,  in  the  midst  of 
the  north  wilderness  :  in  such  a  place,  in  such  dismal 
circumstances,  I  was  to  read  for  the  first  time  these 
idle,  lying  words  of  a  whig  pamphleteer  declaiming 
against  indulgency  to  Jacobites:     "  Another  notorious 

Rebel,  the   M r   of  B e,   is  to   have   his  Title 

restored,"  the  passage  ran.  "  This  Business  has  been 
long  in  hand,  since  he  rendered  some  very  disgrace- 
ful Services  in  Scotland  and  France.  His  Brother, 
L d  D r,  is  known  to  be  no  better  than  him- 
self in  Inclination  ;  and  the  supposed  Heir,  who  is 
now  to  be  set  aside,  was  bred  up  in  the  most  detest- 
able Principles.  In  the  old  Phrase,  it  is  six  of  the 
one  and  half  a  dozen  of  the  other;  but  the  Favour  of 
such  a  Reposition  is  too  extreme  to  be  passed  over."  A 
man  in  his  right  wits  could  not  have  cared  two  straws 
for  a  tale  so  manifestly  false ;  that  government  should 
ever  entertain  the  notion,  was  inconceivable  to  any  rea- 
soning creature,  unless  possibly  the  fool  that  penned 
it ;  and  my  lord,  though  never  brilliant,  was  ever  remark- 
able for  sense.  That  he  should  credit  such  a  rodo- 
montade, and  carry  the  pamphlet  on  his  bosom  and 
the  words  in  his  heart,  is  the  clear  proof  of  the  man's 
lunacy.  Doubtless  the  mere  mention  of  Mr.  Alexan- 
der, and  the  threat  directly  held  out  against  the  child's 
succession,  precipitated    that  which   had  so  long   im- 


PASSAGES   AT  NEW  YORK.  277 

pended.  Or  else  my  master  had  been  truly  mad  for  a 
long  time,  and  we  were  too  dull  or  too  much  used  to 
him,  and  did  not  perceive  the  extent  of  his  infirmity. 

About  a  week  after  the  day  of  the  pamphlets  I  was 
late  upon  the  harbour-side,  and  took  a  turn  towards  the 
Master's,  as  I  often  did.  The  door  opened,  a  flood  of 
light  came  forth  upon  the  road,  and  I  beheld  a  man  tak- 
ing his  dejjarture  with  friendly  salutations.  I  cannot 
say  how  singularly  I  was  shaken  to  recognize  the  adven- 
turer Harris.  I  could  not  but  conclude  it  was  the  hand 
of  my  lord  that  had  brought  him  there  ;  and  prolonged 
my  walk  in  yery  serious  and  apprehensive  thought.  It 
was  late  when  I  came  home,  and  there  was  my  lord 
making  up  his  portmanteau  for  a  voyage. 

"  Why  do  you  come  so  late  ?  "  he  cried.  "  We  leave 
to-morrow  for  Albany,  you  and  I  together  ;  and  it  is 
high  time  you  were  about  your  preparations." 

"  For  Albany,  my  lord  ?  "  I  cried.  "  And  for  what 
earthly  purpose  ?  " 

**  Change  of  scene,"  said  he. 

And  my  lady,  who  appeared  to  have  been  weeping, 
gave  me  the  signal  to  obey  without  more  parley.  She 
told  me  a  little  later  (when  we  found  occasion  to 
exchange  some  words)  that  he  had  suddenly  announced 
his  intention  after  a  visit  from  Captain  Harris,  and 
her  best  endeavours,  whether  to  dissuade  him  from  the 
journey  or  to  elicit  some  explanation  of  its  purpose,  had 
alike  proved  unavailing. 


THE  JOURNEY   IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

We  made  a  prosperous  voyage  np  that  fine  river  of 
the  Hudson,  the  weather  grateful,  the  hills  singularly 
beautified  with  the  colours  of  the  autumn.  At  Albany 
we  had  our  residence  at  an  inn,  where  I  was  not  so  blind 
and  my  lord  not  so  cunning  but  what  I  could  see  he 
had  some  design  to  hold  me  prisoner.  The  work  he 
found  for  me  to  do  was  not  so  pressing  that  we  should 
transact  it  apart  from  necessary  papers  in  the  chamber 
of  an  inn  ;  nor  was  it  of  such  importance  that  I  should 
be  set  upon  as  many  as  four  or  five  scrolls  of  the  same 
document.  I  submitted  in  appearance  ;  but  I  took  ini- 
vate  measures  on  my  own  side,  and  had  the  news  of 
the  town  communicated  to  me  daily  by  the  politeness 
of  our  host.  In  this  way  I  received  at  last  a  piece  of 
intelligence  for  which,  I  may  say,  I  had  been  waiting. 
Captain  Harris  (I  was  told)  with  "  Mr.  Mountain  the 
trader"  had  gone  by  up  the  river  in  a  boat.  I  would 
have  feared  the  landlord's  eye,  so  strong  the  sense  of 
some  complicity  upon  my  master's  part  oppressed  me. 
But  I  made  out  to  say  I  had  some  knowledge  of  the 
captain,  although  none  of  Mr.  Mountain,  and  to  in- 
quire who  else  was  of  the  party.     My  informant  knew 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE  "WILDERNESS.  279 

not ;  Mr.  Mountain  had  come  ashore  upon  some  needful 
purchases  ;  had  gone  round  the  town  buying,  drinking, 
and  prating  ;  and  it  seemed  the  party  went  upon  some 
likely  yenture,  for  he  had  spoken  much  of  great  things 
he  would  do  when  he  returned.  Xo  more  was  known, 
for  none  of  the  rest  had  come  ashore,  and  it  seemed 
they  were  pressed  for  time  to  reach  a  certain  sj)ot  before 
the  snow  should  fall. 

And  sure  enough,  the  next  day,  there  fell  a  sprinkle 
even  in  Albany  ;  but  it  passed  as  it  came,  and  was  but 
a  reminder  of  what  lay  before  us.  I  thought  of  it 
lightly  then,  knowing  so  little  as  I  did  of  that  inclem- 
ent province  :  the  retrospect  is  different ;  and  I  wonder 
at  times  if  some  of  the  horror  of  these  events  which  I 
must  now  rehearse  flowed  not  from  the  foul  skies  and 
savage  winds  to  which  we  were  exposed,  and  the  agony 
of  cold  that  we  must  suffer. 

The  boat  having  passed  by,  I  thought  at  first  we 
should  have  left  the  town.  But  no  such  matter.  My 
lord  continued  his  stay  in  Albany  where  he  had  no 
ostensible  affairs,  and  kept  me  by  him,  far  from  my 
due  employment,  and  making  a  pretence  of  occupation. 
It  is  ujDon  this  passage  I  expect,  and  perhaps,  deserve 
censure.  I  was  not  so  dull  but  what  I  had  my  own 
thoughts.  I  could  not  see  the  master  entrust  himself 
into  the  hands  of  Harris,  and  not  suspect  some  under- 
hand contrivance.  Harris  bore  a  villainous  reputation, 
and  he  had  been  tampered  with  in  private  by  my  lord  ; 


280  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

Mountain  the  trader,  proved  upon  inquiry,  to  be  aiiofch-er 
of  the  same  kidney ;  the  errand  they  were  all  gone 
upon,  being  the  recovery  of  ill-gotten  treasures,  offered 
in  itself  a  very  strong  incentive  to  foul  play  ;  and  the 
character  of  tlve  country  -where  they  journeyed  promised 
impunity  to  deeds  of  blood.  "Well  :  it  is  true  I  had  all 
these  thoughts  and  fears,  and  guesses  of  the  j\Iaster's 
fate.  But  you  are  to  consider  I  was  the  same  man  that 
sought  to  dash  him  from  the  bulwarks  of  a  ship  in  the 
mid-sea  ;  the  same  that,  a  little  before,  very  impiously 
but  sincerely  offered  God  a  bargain,  seeking  to  hire  God 
to  be  my  bravo.  It  is  true  again  that  I  had  a  good  deal 
melted  toward  our  enemy.  But  this  I  always  thought 
of  as  a  weakness  of  the  flesh  and  even  culj^able  ;  my 
mind  remaining  steady  and  quite  bent  against  him. 
True  yet  again,  that  it  was  one  thing  to  assume  on 
my  own  shoulders  the  guilt  and  danger  of  a  criminal 
attempt,  and  another  to  stand  by  and  see  my  lord  im- 
peril and  besmirch  himself.  But  this  was  the  very 
ground  of  my  inaction.  Por  (should  I  anyway  stir  in 
the  business)  I  might  fail  indeed  to  save  the  Master, 
but  I  could  not  miss  to  make  a  byword  of  my  lord. 

Thus  it  was  that  I  did  nothing  ;  and  upon  the  same 
reasons,  I  am  still  strong  to  justify  my  course.  We 
lived  meanwhile  in  Albany,  but  though  alone  together 
in  a  strange  place,  had  little  traffic  beyond  formal  salu- 
tations. My  lord  had  carried  with  him  several  introduc- 
tions to  chief  people  of  the  town  and  neighbourhood ; 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  281 

others  he  had  before  encountered  in  New  York  :  with 
this  consequence,  that  he  went  much  abroad,  and  I  am 
Borry  to  say  was  altogether  too  convivial  in  his  habits. 
I  was  often  in  bed,  but  never  asleep,  when  he  returned  ; 
and  there  was  scarce  a  night  when  he  did  not  betray  the 
influence  of  liquor.  By  day  he  would  still  lay  upon 
me  endless  tasks,  which  he  showed  considerable  ingenu- 
ity to  fish  up  and  to  renew,  in  the  manner  of  Penelope's 
web.  I  never  refused,  as  I  say,  for  I  was  hired  to  do  his 
bidding ;  but  I  took  no  pains  to  keep  my  penetration 
under  a  bushel,  and  would  sometimes  smile  in  his  face. 

"  I  think  I  must  be  the  devil  and  you  Michael  Scott," 
I  said  to  him  one  day.  "  I  have  bridged  Tweed  and  split 
the  Eildons  ;  and  now  you  set  me  to  the  rope  of  sand." 

He  looked  at  me  with  shining  eyes  and  looked  away 
again,  his  jaw  chewing  ;  but  without  words. 

"  Well,  well,  my  lord,"  said  I,  '^your  will  is  my  plea- 
sure. I  will  do  this  thing  for  the  fourth  time;  but  I 
would  beg  of  you  to  invent  another  task  against  to- 
morrow, for  by  my  troth,  I  am  weary  of  this  one." 

"  You  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying,"  returned 
my  lord,  putting  on  his  hat  and  turning  his  back  to  me. 
*'  It  is  a  strange  thing  you  should  take  a  pleasure  to 
annoy  me.  A  friend — but  that  is  a  different  affair.  It 
is  a  strange  thing.  I  am  a  man  that  has  had  ill-fortune 
all  my  life  through.  I  am  still  surrounded  by  contriv- 
ances. I  am  always  treading  in  plots,"  he  burst  out. 
*•  The  whole  world  is  banded  against  me." 


282  THE   MASTER  OF   BALLANTRAE. 

"  I  would  not  talk  wicked  nonsense  if  I  were  you," 
said  I;  "  but  I  will  tell  you  what  I  zconid  do — I  would 
put  my  head  in  cold  water,  for  you  had  more  last  night 
than  you  could  carry."' 

"Do  ye  think  that  ?  "  said  lie,  with  a  manner  of  inter- 
est highly  awakened.  ''Would  that  be  good  for  me? 
It's  a  thing  I  never  tried." 

*'  I  mind  the  days  when  you  had  no  call  to  try,  and 
I  wish,  my  lord,  that  they  were  back  again,"  said  I. 
"But  the  plain  truth  is,  if  you  continue  to  exceed,  you 
will  do  yourself  a  mischief." 

"I  don't  appear  to  carry  drink  tlie  way  I  used  to," 
said  my  lord.  "  I  get  overtaken,  Mackellar.  But  I  will 
be  more  upon  my  guard." 

"  That  is  what  I  would  ask  of  you,"  I  replied.  "You 
are  to  bear  in  mind  that  you  are  Mr.  Alexander's  father  : 
give  the  bairn  a  chance  to  carry  his  name  with  some 
responsibility." 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  he.  "Ye're  a  very  sensible  man, 
Mackellar,  and  have  been  long  in  my  employ.  But  I 
think,  if  you  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  me,  I  will  be 
stepping.  If  you  have  nothing  more  to  say  ?  "  he  added, 
with  that  burning,  childish  eagerness  that  was  now  so 
common  with  the  man. 

"No,  my  lord,  I  have  nothing  more,"  said  I,  dryly 
enough. 

"■  Then  I  think  I  will  be  stepping,"  says  my  lord,  and 
stood  and  looked  at  me  fidgeting  with  his  hat,  which  he 


THE  JOURNEY   IN  THE   "WILDERNESS.  283 

had  taken  off  again.  "I  suppose  yoa  will  have  no 
errands  ?  No  ?  I  am  to  meet  Sir  William  Johnson, 
but  I  will  be  more  upon  my  guard."  He  was  silent  for 
a  time,  and  then,  smiling:  "Do  you  call  to  mind  a 
place,  Mackellar — it's  a  little  below  Engles — where  the 
burn  runs  very  deep  under  a  wood  of  rowans  ?  I  mind 
being  there  when  I  was  a  lad — dear,  it  comes  over  me 
like  an  old  song  ! — I  was  after  the  fishing,  and  I  made  a 
bonny  cast.  Eh,  but  I  was  happy.  I  wonder,  Mackel- 
lar, why  I  am  never  happy  now  ?  " 

"My  lord,"  said  I,  "if  you  would  drink  with  more 
moderation  you  would  have  the  better  chance.  It  is  an 
old  byword  that  the  bottle  is  a  false  consoler." 

"No  doubt,"  said  he,  "no  doubt.  Well,  I  think  I 
will  be  going." 

"Good-morning,  my  lord,"  said  I. 

"Good-morning,  good-morning,"  said  he,  and  so  got 
himself  at  last  from  the  apartment. 

I  give  that  for  a  fair  specimen  of  my  lord  in  the 
morning  ;  and  I  must  have  described  my  patron  very  ill 
if  the  reader  does  not  perceive  a  notable  falling  off.  To 
behold  the  man  thus  fallen  :  to  know  him  accepted 
among  his  companions  for  a  poor,  muddled  toper,  wel- 
come (if  he  were  welcome  at  all)  for  the  bare  considera- 
tion of  his  title ;  and  to  recall  the  virtues  he  had  once 
displayed  against  such  odds  of  fortune  :  was  not  this  a 
thing  at  once  to  rage  and  to  be  humbled  at  ? 

In  his  cups,  he  was  more  excessive.     I  will  give  but 


284  THE  mastp:r  of  ballantrae. 

the  one  scene,  close  upon  the  end,  which  is  strongly 
marked  upon  my  memory  to  this  day,  and  at  the  time 
affected  me  almost  with  horror. 

I  was  in  bed,  lying  there  awake,  when  I  heard  him 
stumbling  on  the  stair  and  singing.  My  lord  had  no 
gift  of  music,  his  brother  had  all  the  graces  of  the  fam- 
ily, so  that  when  I  say  singing,  you  are  to  understand  a 
manner  of  high,  carolling  utterance,  which  was  truly 
neither  speech  nor  song.  Something  not  unlike  is  to  be 
heard  upon  the  lips  of  children,  ere  they  learn  shame; 
from  those  of  a  man  grown  elderly,  it  had  a  strange 
effect.  He  opened  the  door  with  noisy  precaution  ; 
peered  in,  shading  his  candle ;  conceived  me  to  slumber  ; 
entered,  set  his  light  upon  the  table,  and  took  off  his 
hat.  I  saw  him  very  plain  ;  a  high,  feverish  exultation 
appeared  to  boil  in  his  veins,  and  he  stood  and  smiled 
and  smirked  upon  the  candle.  Presently  he  lifted  up 
his  arm,  snapped  his  fingers,  and  fell  to  undress.  As  he 
did  so,  having  once  more  forgot  my  presence,  he  took 
back  to  his  singing  ;  and  now  I  could  hear  the  words, 
which  were  those  from  the  old  song  of  the  Twa  Corbies 
endlessly  repeated  : 

"  And  over  his  banes  when  they  are  bare 
The  wind  sail  blaw  for  evermair  !  " 

I  have  said  there  was  no  music  in  the  man.  His 
strains  had  no  logical  succession  except  in  so  far  as  they 
inclined  a  little  to  the  minor  mode  ;  but  they  exercised 


THE   JOUENEY  IN   THE   WILDERNESS.  285 

a  rude  potency  upon  the  feelings,  and  followed  the 
words,  and  signified  the  feelings  of  the  singer  with  bar- 
baric fitness.  He  took  it  first  in  the  time  and  manner 
of  a  rant ;  presently  this  ill-favoured  gleefulness  abated, 
he  began  to  dwell  upon  the  notes  more  feelingly,  and 
sank  at  last  into  a  degree  of  maudlin  pathos  that  was  to 
me  scarce  bearable.  By  equal  steps,  tiie  original  brisk- 
ness of  his  acts  declined  ;  and  when  he  was  stripped  to 
his  breeches,  he  sat  on  the  bedside  and  fell  to  whimper- 
ing. I  know  nothing  less  respectable  than  the  tears  of 
drunkenness,  and  turned  my  back  impatiently  on  this 
poor  sight. 

But  he  had  started  himself  (I  am  to  suppose)  on  that 
slippery  descent  of  self-pity;  on  the  which,  to  a  man 
unstrung  by  old  sorrows  and  recent  potations  there  is  no 
arrest  except  exhaustion.  His  tears  continued  to  flow, 
and  the  man  to  sit  there,  three  parts  naked,  in  the  cold 
air  of  the  chamber.  I  twitted  myself  alternately  with 
inhumanity  and  sentimental  weakness,  now  half  rising 
in  my  bed  to  interfere,  now  reading  myself  lessons  of 
indifference  and  courting  slumber,  until,  upon  a  sudden, 
the  quantum  mutatus  ah  illo  shot  into  my  mind  ;  and 
calling  to  remembrance  his  old  wisdom,  constancy,  and 
patience,  I  was  overborne  with  a  pity  almost  approach- 
ing the  passionate,  not  for  my  master  alone  but  for  the 
sons  of  man. 

At  this  I  leaped  from  my  place,  went  over  to  his  side 
and  laid  a  hand  on  his  bare  shoulder,  which  was  cold 


286        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

as  stone.  He  uncovered  his  face  and  showed  it  me  all 
swollen  and  begrutten*  like  a  child's  ;  and  at  the  sight 
my  impatience  partially  revived. 

*•'  Think  shame  to  yourself/'  said  I.  "  This  is  bairnly 
conduct.  I  might  have  been  snivelling  myself,  if  I  had 
cared  to  swill  my  belly  with  wine.  But  1  went  to  my 
bed  sober  like  a  man.  Come  :  get  into  yours,  and  have 
done  with  this  pitiable  exhibition." 

"Oh,  Mackellar,"  said  he,  "my  heart  is  wae  !  " 

"Wae?"  cried  I.  '"'For  a  good  cause,  I  think. 
"What  words  were  these  you  sang  as  you  came  in  ?  Show 
pity  to  others,  we  then  can  talk  of  pity  to  yourself.  You 
can  be  the  one  thing  or  the  other,  but  I  will  be  no  party 
to  half-way  houses.  If  you're  a  striker,  strike,  and  if 
you're  a  bl eater,  bleat !  " 

"  Cry  ! "  cries  he,  with  a  burst,  "  that's  it — strike  ! 
that's  talking  !  Man,  I've  stood  it  all  too  long.  But 
when  they  laid  a  hand  upon  the  child,  when  the  child's 
threatened  " — his  momentary  vigor  whimpering  off — 
*'  my  child,  my  Alexander  !  " — and  he  was  at  his  tears 
again. 

I  took  him  by  the  shoulders  and  shook  him.  "Alex- 
ander I"  said  I.  "Do  you  even  think  of  him?  Not 
you  !  Look  yourself  in  the  face  like  a  brave  man,  and 
you'll  find  you're  but  a  self-deceiver.  The  wife,  the 
friend,  the  child,  they're  all  equally  forgot,  and  you 
sunk  in  a  mere  log  of  selfishness." 
*  Tear- marked. 


THE  JOURNEY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS.  287 

*'Mackellar/'  said  he,  with  a  wonderful  return  to  his 
old  manner  and  appearance,  "  you  may  say  what  you 
will  of  me,  but  one  thing  I  never  was — I  was  never 
selfish." 

"I  will  open  your  eyes  in  your  despite,"  said  I. 
"How long  have  we  been  here?  and  how  often  have 
you  written  to  your  family  ?  I  think  this  is  the  first 
time  you  were  ever  separate  :  have  you  written  at  all  ? 
Do  they  know  if  you  are  dead  or  living  ?  " 

I  had  caught  him  here  too  openly  ;  it  braced  his  bet- 
ter nature  ;  there  was  no  more  weeping,  he  thanked  me 
very  penitently,  got  to  bed  and  was  soon  fast  asleep  ; 
and  the  first  thing  he  did  the  next  morning  was  to  sit 
down  and  begin  a  letter  to  my  lady  :  a  very  tender  letter 
it  was  too,  though  it  was  never  finished.  Indeed  all 
communication  with  New  York  was  transacted  by  my- 
self ;  and  it  will  be  judged  I  had  a  thankless  task  of  it. 
What  to  tell  my  lady  and  in  what  words,  and  how  far 
to  be  false  and  how  far  cruel,  was  a  thing  that  kept  me 
often  from  my  slumber. 

All  this  while,  no  doubt,  my  lord  waited  with  growing 
impatiency  for  news  of  his  accomplices.  Harris,  it  is 
to  be  thought,  had  promised  a  high  degree  of  expedi- 
tion ;  the  time  was  already  overpast  when  word  was  to 
be  looked  for  ;  and  suspense  was  a  very  evil  counsellor  to 
a  man  of  an  impaired  intelligence.  My  lord's  mind 
throughout  this  interval  dwelled  almost  wholly  in  the 
Wilderness,   following  that  party  with  whose  deeds  he 


288  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

had  so  much  concern.  He  continually  conjured  up 
their  camps  and  progresses,  the  fashion  of  the  country, 
the  perpetration  in  a  thousand  different  manners  of  the 
same  horrid  fact,  and  that  consequent  spectacle  of  the 
Master's  bones  lying  scattered  in  the  wind.  These  pri- 
vate, guilty  considerations  I  would  continually  observe 
to  peep  forth  in  the  man's  talk,  like  rabbits  from  a  hill. 
And  it  is  the  less  wonder  if  the  scene  of  his  meditations 
began  to  draw  him  bodily. 

It  is  well  known  what  pretext  he  took.  Sir  William 
Johnson  had  a  diplomatic  errand  in  these  parts ;  and 
my  lord  and  I  (from  curiosity,  as  was  given  out)  went 
in  his  company.  Sir  William  was  well  attended  and 
liberally  supplied.  Hunters  brought  us  venison,  fish 
was  taken  for  us  daily  in  the  streams,  and  brandy  ran 
like  water.  We  proceeded  by  day  and  encamped  by 
night  in  the  military  style  ;  sentinels  were  set  and 
changed  ;  every  man  had  his  named  duty ;  and  Sir  Wil- 
liam was  the  spring  of  all.  There  was  much  in  this  that 
might  at  times  have  entertained  me;  but  for  our  mis- 
fortune, the  weather  was  extremely  harsh,  the  days  were 
in  the  beginning  open,  but  the  nights  frosty  from  the 
first.  A  painful  keen  wind  blew  most  of  the  time,  so 
that  we  sat  in  the  boat  with  blue  fingers,  and  at  night, 
as  we  scorched  our  faces  at  the  fire,  the  clothes  upon  our 
back  appeared  to  be  of  paper.  A  dreadful  solitude  sur- 
rounded our  steps  ;  the  land  was  quite  dispeopled,  there 


THE   JOURNEY   EST   THE   WILDERNESS.  289 

was  no  smoke  of  fires,  and  save  for  a  single  boat  of 
merchants  on  the  second  day,  we  met  no  travellers. 
The  season  was  indeed  late,  but  this  desertion  of  the 
waterways  impressed  Sir  William  himself  ;  and  I  have 
beard  him  more  than  once  express  a  sense  of  intimida- 
tion. "  I  have  come  too  late  I  fear  ;  they  must  have 
dug  up  the  hatchet  ;  "  be  said  ;  and  the  future  proved 
how  justly  be  had  reasoned. 

I  could  never  depict  the  blackness  of  my  soul  upon 
this  journey.  I  have  none  of  those  minds  that  are  in 
love  with  the  unusual  :  to  see  the  winter  coming  and  to 
lie  in  the  field  so  far  from  any  house,  oppressed  me  like 
a  nightmare  ;  it  seemed,  indeed,  a  kind  of  awful  braving 
of  God's  230wer ;  and  this  thought,  which  I  daresay 
only  writes  me  down  a  coward,  was  greatly  exaggerated 
by  my  private  knowledge  of  the  errand  we  were  come 
upon.  I  was  besides  encumbered  by  my  duties  to  Sir 
William,  whom  it  fell  upon  me  to  entertain ;  for  my 
lord  was  quite  sunk  into  a  state  bordering  on  pervigi- 
lium, watching  the  woods  with  a  rapt  eye,  sleeping 
scarce  at  all,  and  speaking  sometimes  not  twenty  words 
in  a  whole  day.  That  which  he  said  was  still  coherent ; 
but  it  turned  almost  invariably  upon  the  party  for 
whom  he  kept  his  crazy  lookout.  He  would  tell  Sir 
William  often,  and  always  as  if  it  were  a  new  commu- 
nication, tbat  he  had  "  a  brother  somewhere  in  the 
woods,"  and  beg  that  the  sentinels  should  be  directed 
"  to  inquire  for  him."  "  I  am  anxious  for  news  of  my 
19 


290        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLAKTRAE. 

brother/'  he  would  say.  And  sometimes,  ■when  we 
were  under  way,  he  would  fancy  he  spied  a  canoe  far 
off  upon  the  water  or  a  camp  ou  the  shore,  and  exhibit 
painful  agitation.  It  was  impossible  but  Sir  William 
should  be  struck  with  these  singularities  ;  and  at  last 
he  led  me  aside,  and  hinted  his  uneasiness.  I  touched 
my  head  and  shook  it ;  quite  rejoiced  to  prepare  a  little 
testimony  against  possible  disclosures. 

"  But  in  that  case,"  cries  Sir  William,  "  is  it  wise  to 
let  him  go  at  large  ?  " 

"Those  that  know  him  best,"  said  I,  "  are  persuaded 
that  he  should  be  humoured." 

'•'Well,  well,"  replied  Sir  William,  '•  it  is  none  of  my 
affairs.  But  if  I  had  understood,  you  would  never  have 
been  here." 

Our  advance  into  this  savage  country  had  thus  une- 
ventfully proceeded  for  about  a  week,  when  we  en- 
camped for  a  night  at  a  place  where  the  river  ran 
among  considerable  mountains  clothed  in  woorl.  The 
fires  were  lighted  on  a  level  space  at  the  water's  edge ; 
and  we  supped  and  lay  down  to  sleep  in  the  custo- 
mary fashion.  It  chanced  the  night  fell  murderously 
cold  ;  the  stringency  of  the  frost  seized  and  bit  me 
through  my  coverings,  so  that  pain  kept  me  wakeful  ; 
and  I  was  afoot  again  before  the  peep  of  day,  crouching 
by  the  fires  or  trotting  to  and  fro  at  the  stream's  edge, 
to  combat  the  aching  of  my  limbs.  At  last  dawn 
began  to  break  upon  hoar  woods  and  mountains,  the 


THE  JOUENEY   IN  THE   WILDERNESS,  291 

sleepers  rolled  in  their  robes,  and  the  boisterous  river 
dashing  among  spears  of  ice.  I  stood  looking  about 
me,  swaddled  in  my  stiff  coat  of  a  bull's  fur,  and  the 
breath  smoking  from  my  scorched  nostrils,  when,  upon 
a  sudden,  a  singular,  eager  cry  rang  from  the  borders  of 
the  wood.  The  sentries  answered  it,  the  sleepers  sprang 
to  their  feet ;  one  pointed,  the  rest  followed  his  direc- 
tion with  their  eyes,  and  there,  upon  the  edge  of  the 
forest  and  betwixt  two  trees,  we  beheld  the  figure  of  a 
man  reaching  forth  his  hands  like  one  in  ecstacy.  The 
next  moment  he  ran  forward,  fell  on  his  knees  at  the 
side  of  the  camp,  and  burst  in  tears. 

This  ATas  John  Mountain,  the  trader,  escaped  from 
the  most  horrid  perils  ;  and  his  first  word,  when  he  got 
speech,  was  to  ask  if  we  had  seen  Secundra  Dass. 

"  Seen  what  ?  "  cries  Sir  William. 

"  No,"  said  1,  ''  we  have  seen  nothing  of  him. 
Why  ?  " 

"Nothing?"  says  Mountain.  "Then  I  w^as  right 
after  all."  With  that  he  struck  his  palm  upon  his  brow. 
"  Bnt  what  takes  him  back  ?  "  he  cried.  "  What  takes 
the  man  back  among  dead  bodies  ?  There  is  some 
damned  mystery  here." 

This  was  a  word  which  highly  aroused  our  curiosity, 
bnt  I  shall  be  more  jDcrspicacious,  if  I  narrate  these 
incidents  in  their  true  order.  Here  follows  a  narrative 
which  I  have  compiled  out  of  three  sources,  not  very 
consistent  in  all  points  : 


292  THE    MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

First,  a   wriHen  statement  by   Mountain,  in  which 

everything  criminal  is  cleverly  smuggled  out  of  view  ; 

Second,  two  conversations  with  Secundra  Dass  ;  and. 

Third,  many  conversations  with  Mountain  himself, 

in  which  he  was  pleased  to  be  entirely  plain  ;  for  the 

truth  is  he  regarded  me  as  an  accomplice. 


NARRATIVE    OF   THE   TRADER,  MOUN"TAIN". 

The  crew  that  went  up  the  river  under  the  joint  com- 
mand of  Captain  Harris  and  the  Master  numbered  in  all 
nine  persons,  of  whom  (if  I  except  Secundra  Dass)  there 
was  not  one  that  had  not  merited  the  gallows.  From 
Harris  downward  the  voyagers  were  notorious  in  that 
colony  for  desperate,  bloody-minded  miscreants ;  some 
were  reputed  pirates,  the  most  hawkers  of  rum  ;  all 
ranters  and  drinkers ;  all  fit  associates,  embarking  to- 
gether without  remorse,  upon  this  treacherous  and 
murderous  design.  I  could  not  hear  there  was  much 
discipline  or  any  set  captain  in  the  gang  ;  but  Harris 
and  four  others,  Mountain  himself,  two  Scotchmen — 
Piukerton  and  Hastie — and  a  man  of  the  name  of 
Hicks,  a  drunken  shoemaker,  put  their  heads  together 
and  agreed  upon  the  course.  In  a  material  sense,  they 
were  well  enough  provided  ;  and  the  Master  in  particu- 
lar, brought  with  him  a  tent  where  he  might  enjoy 
some  privacy  and  shelter. 

Even  this  small  indulgence  told  against  him  in  the 


THE   JOURNEY   IN   THE    WILDERNESS.  293 

minds  of  his  companions.  But  indeed  he  was  in  a  posi- 
tion so  entirely  false  (and  even  ridiculous)  that  all  his 
habit  of  command  and  arts  of  j^leasing  were  here  thrown 
away.  In  the  eyes  of  all,  except  Secundra  Dass,  he  fig- 
ured as  a  common  gnll  and  designated  victim  ;  going 
unconsciously  to  death ;  yet  he  could  not  but  suppose 
himself  the  contriver  and  the  leader  of  the  expedition  ; 
he  could  scarce  help  but  so  conduct  himself;  and  at  the 
least  hint  of  authority  or  condescension,  his  deceivers 
would  be  laughing  in  their  sleeves.  I  was  so  used  to  see 
and  to  conceive  him  in  a  high,  authoritative  attitude, 
that  when  I  had  conceived  his  position  on  this  journey, 
I  was  i^ained  and  could  have  blushed.  How  soon  he 
may  have  entertained  a  first  surmise,  we  cannot  know  ; 
but  it  was  long,  and  the  party  had  advanced  into  the 
Wilderness  beyond  the  reach  of  any  help,  ere  he  was 
fully  awakened  to  the  truth. 

It  fell  thus.  Harris  and  some  others  had  drawn 
apart  into  the  woods  for  consultation,  when  they  were 
startled  by  a  rustling  in  the  brush.  They  were  all 
accustomed  to  the  arts  of  Indian  warfare,  and  Mountain 
had  not  only  lived  and  hunted,  but  fought  and  earned 
some  reputation,  with  the  savages.  He  could  move  in 
the  woods  without  noise,  and  follow  a  trail  like  a  hound  ; 
and  upon  the  emergence  of  this  alert,  he  was  deputed 
by  the  rest  to  plunge  into  the  thicket  for  intelligence. 
He  was  soon  convinced  there  was  a  man  in  his  close 
neighbourhood,  moving  with  precaution  but  without  art 


294       THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

among  the  leaves  and  branches ;  and  coming  shortly  to 
a  place  of  advantage,  he  was  able  to  observe  Secundra 
Dass  crawling  briskly  off  with  many  backward  glances. 
At  this  he  knew  not  whether  to  laugh  or  cry  ;  and  his 
accomplices,  when  he  had  returned  and  reported,  were 
in  much  the  same  dubiety.  There  was  now  no  danger 
of  an  Indian  onslaught ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  since 
Secundra  Dass  was  at  the  i^ains  to  spy  upon  them,  it 
was  higlily  probable  he  knew  English,  and  if  he  knew 
English  it  was  certain  the  whole  of  their  design  was  in 
the  Master's  knowledge.  There  was  one  singularity  in 
the  position.  If  Secundra  Dass  knew  and  concealed 
his  knowledge  of  English,  Harris  was  a  proficient  in 
several  of  the  tongues  of  India,  and  as  his  career  in 
that  part  of  the  world  had  been  a  great  deal  worse  than 
profligate,  he  had  not  thought  proper  to  remark  upon 
the  circumstance.  Each  side  had  thus  a  spy-hole  on  the 
counsels  of  the  other.  The  plotters,  so  soon  as  this 
advantage  was  explained,  returned  to  camp ;  Harris, 
hearing  the  Hindustani  was  once  more  closeted  with  his 
master,  crept  to  the  side  of  the  tent ;  and  the  rest,  sit- 
ting about  the  fire  with  their  tobacco,  awaited  his  report 
with  impatience.  When  he  came  at  last,  his  face  was 
very  black.  He  had  overheard  enough  to  confirm  the 
worst  of  his  suspicions.  Secundra  Dass  was  a  good 
English  scholar;  he  had  been  some  days  creeping  and 
listening,  the  Master  was  now  fully  informed  of  the 
conspiracy,  and  the  pair  proposed  on  the  morrow  to  fall 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  295 

out  of  line  at  a  carrying  place  and  plunge  at  a  venture 
in  the  woods  :  preferring  the  full  risk  of  famine,  savage 
beasts,  and  savage  men  to  their  position  in  the  midst  of 
traitors. 

What,  then,  was  to  be  done  ?  Some  were  for  killing 
the  Master  on  the  spot ;  but  Harris  assured  them  that 
would  be  a  crime  without  profit,  since  the  secret  of  the 
treasure  must  die  along  with  him  that  buried  it.  Oth- 
ers were  for  desisting  at  once  from  the  whole  enterprise 
and  making  for  ISTe^v  York  ;  but  the  appetising  name  of 
treasure,  and  the  thought  of  the  long  way  they  had 
already  travelled  dissuaded  the  majority.  I  imagine 
they  Avere  dull  fellows  for  the  most  part.  Harris,  in- 
deed, had  some  acquirements.  Mountain  was  no  fool, 
Hastie  was  an  educated  man  ;  but  even  these  had  mani- 
festly failed  in  life,  and  the  rest  were  the  dregs  of  colo- 
nial rascality.  The  conclusion  they  reached,  at  least, 
was  more  the  offspring  of  greed  and  hope,  than  reason. 
It  was  to  temporise,  to  be  wary  and  watch  the  Master, 
to  be  silent  and  supply  no  further  ailment  to  his  sus- 
picions, and  to  depend  entirely  (as  well  as  I  make  out) 
on  the  chance  that  their  victim  was  as  greedy,  hojDeful, 
and  irrational  as  themselves,  and  might,  after  all,  betray 
his  life  and  treasure. 

Twice,  in  the  course  of  the  next  day,  Secundra  and 
the  Master  must  have  appeared  to  themselves  to  have 
escaped ;  and  twice  they  were  circumvented.  The  Mas- 
ter, save  that  the  second  time  he  grew  a  little  pale,  dis- 


296        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

played  no  sign  of  disaijpointment,  apologised  for  the 
stupidity  with  which  he  had  fallen  aside,  thanked  his 
recapturers  as  for  a  service,  and  rejoined  the  caravan 
with  all  his  usual  gallantry  and  cheerfulness  of  mien 
and  bearing.  But  it  is  certain  he  had  smelled  a  rat; 
for  from  thenceforth  he  and  Secundra  spoke  only  in 
each  other's  ear,  and  Harris  listened  and  shivered  by  the 
tent  in  vain.  The  same  night  it  was  announced  they 
were  to  leave  the  boats  and  proceed  by  foot :  a  circum- 
stance which  (as  it  put  an  end  to  the  confusion  of  the 
portages)  greatly  lessened  the  chances  of  escape. 

And  now  there  began  between  the  two  sides  a  silent 
contest,  for  life  on  the  one  hand,  for  riches  on  the  other. 
They  were  now  near  that  quarter  of  the  desert  in  which 
the  Master  himself  must  begin  to  play  the  part  of  guide  ; 
and  using  this  for  a  pretext  of  prosecution,  Harris  and 
his  men  sat  with  him  every  night  about  the  fire,  and 
laboured  to  entrap  him  into  some  admission.  If  he  let 
slip  his  secret,  he  knew  well  it  was  the  warrant  for  his 
death  J  on  the  other  hand,  he  durst  not  refuse  their 
questions,  and  must  appear  to  help  them  to  the  best  of 
his  capacity,  or  he  practically  published  his  mistrust. 
And  yet  Mountain  assures  me  the  man's  brow  was  never 
ruffled.  He  sat  in  th6  midst  of  these  jackals,  his  life 
depending  by  a  thread,  like  some  easy,  witty  householder 
at  home  by  his  own  fire ;  an  answer  he  had  for  every- 
thing— as  often  as  not,  a  Jesting  answer  ;  avoided  threats, 
evaded  insults ;  talked,  laughed,  and  listened  with  an 


THE   JOURNEY  IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  297 

open  countenance  ;  and,  in  short,  conducted  himself  in 
such  a  manner  as  must  have  disarmed  suspicion,  and 
went  near  to  stagger  knowledge.  Indeed  Mountain  con- 
fessed to  me  they  would  soon  have  disbelieved  the  cap- 
tain's story,  and  supposed  their  designated  victim  still 
quite  innocent  of  their  designs;  but  for  the  fact  that 
he  continued  (however  ingeniously)  to  give  the  slip 
to  questions,  and  the  yet  stronger  confirmation  of  his 
repeated  efforts  to  escape.  The  last  of  these,  which 
brought  things  to  a  head,  I  am  now  to  relate.  And  first 
I  should  say  that  by  this  time  the  temper  of  Harris's 
companions  was  utterly  worn  out;  civility  was  scarce 
pretended  ;  and  for  one  very  significant  circumstance, 
the  Master  and  Secundra  had  been  (on  some  pretext) 
deprived  of  weapons.  On  their  side,  however,  the 
threatened  pair  kept  up  the  parade  of  friendship  hand- 
somely ;  Secundra  was  all  bows,  the  Master  all  smiles ; 
and  on  the  last  night  of  the  truce  he  had  even  gone  so 
far  as  to  sing  for  the  diversion  of  the  company.  It  was 
observed  that  he  had  also  eaten  with  unusual  heartiness, 
and  drank  deep  :  doubtless  from  design. 

At  least,  about  three  in  the  morning,  he  came  out  of 
the  tent  into  the  open  air,  audibly  mourning  and  com- 
plaining, with  all  the  manner  of  a  sufEerer  from  sur- 
feit. For  some  while,  Secundra  publicly  attended  on  his 
patron,  who  at  last  became  more  easy,  and  fell  asleep 
on  the  frosty  ground  behind  the  tent :  the  Indian 
returning  within.     Some   time   after,  the   sentry  was 


298        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

changed  ;  had  the  Master  pointed  out  to  liim,  where  he 
lay  in  what  is  called  a  rolie  of  buffalo  ;  and  thenceforth 
kept  an  eye  upon  him  (he  declared)  without  remission. 
With  the  first  of  the  dawn,  a  draught  of  wind  came 
suddenly  and  blew  ojien  one  side  the  corner  of  the  robe; 
and  with  the  same  puff,  the  Master's  hat  whirled  in  the 
air  and  fell  some  yards  away.  The  sentry,  thinking  it 
remarkable  the  sleeper  should  not  awaken,  thereupon 
drew  near  ;  and  the  next  moment,  with  a  great  shout, 
informed  the  camp  their  prisoner  was  escaped.  He  had 
left  behind  his  Indian,  who  (in  the  first  vivacity  of  the 
surprise)  came  near  to  pay  the  forfeit  of  his  life,  and 
was,  in  fact,  inhumanly  mishandled  ;  but  Secundra,  in 
the  midst  of  threats  and  cruelties,  stuck  to  it  with 
extraordinary  loyalty,  that  he  was  quite  ignorant  of  his 
master's  plans,  which  might  indeed  be  true,  and  of  the 
manner  of  his  escape,  which  was  demonstrably  false. 
Nothing  was  therefore  left  to  the  conspirators  but  to 
rely  entirely  on  the  skill  of  Mountain.  The  night  had 
been  frosty,  the  ground  quite  hard  ;  and  the  sun  was  no 
sooner  up  than  a  strong  thaw  set  in.  It  was  Mountain's 
boast  that  few  men  could  have  followed  that  trail,  and 
still  fewer  (even  of  the  native  Indians)  found  it.  The 
Master  had  thus  a  long  start  before  his  pursuers  had 
the  scent,  and  he  must  have  travelled  with  surprising 
energy  for  a  pedestrian  so  unused,  since  it  was  near 
noon  before  Mountain  had  a  view  of  him.  At  this  con- 
juncture the  trader  was  alone,  all  his  companions  fol- 


THE   JOURNEY   IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  299 

lowing,  at  his  own  request,  several  hundred  yards  in  the 
rear  :  he  knew  the  Master  was  unarmed  ;  his  heart  was 
besides  heated  Avith  the  exercise  and  lust  of  hunting; 
and  seeing  the  quarry  so  close,  so  defenceless,  and  seem- 
ingly so  fatigued,  he  yain-gloriously  determined  to  efPect 
the  capture  with  his  single  hand.  A  step  or  two  further 
brought  him  to  one  margin  of  a  little  clearing  ;  on  the 
other,  with  his  arms  folded  and  his  back  to  a  huge  stone, 
the  Master  sat.  It  is  possible  Mountain  may  have  made 
a  rustle,  it  is  certain,  at  least,  the  Master  raised  his 
head  and  gazed  directly  at  that  quarter  of  the  thicket 
where  his  hunter  lay.  "  I  could  not  be  sure  he  saw 
me,"  Mountain  said ;  "  he  just  looked  my  way  like  a 
man  with  his  mind  made  up,  and  all  the  courage  ran 
out  of  me  like  rum  out  of  a  bottle."  And  presently, 
when  the  Master  looked  away  again,  and  appeared  to 
resume  those  meditations  in  which  he  had  sat  immersed 
before  the  trader's  coming.  Mountain  slunk  stealth- 
ily back  and  returned  to  seek  the  help  of  his  compan- 
ions. 

And  now  began  the  chapter  of  surprises,  for  the  scout 
had  scarce  informed  the  others  of  his  discovery,  and 
they  were  yet  preparing  their  weapons  for  a  rush  upon 
the  fugitive,  when  the  man  himself  appeared  in  their 
midst,  walking  openly  and  quietly,  with  his  hands  be- 
hind his  back. 

"  Ah,  men  ! "  says  he,  on  his  beholding  them.  "  Here 
is  a  fortunate  encounter.     Let  us  get  back  to  camp." 


300  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

Mountain  had  not  mentioned  his  own  weakness  or  the 
Master's  disconcerting  gaze  upon  the  thicket,  so  that 
(with  all  the  rest)  his  return  appeared  spontaneous. 
For  all  that,  a  hubhuh  arose  ;  oaths  flew,  fists  were 
shaken,  and  guns  pointed. 

"Let  us  get  back  to  camp,"  said  the  Master.  "1 
have  an  explanation  to  make,  but  it  must  be  laid  before 
you  all.  And  in  the  meanwhile  I  would  put  up  these 
weapons,  one  of  which  might  very  easily  go  off  and 
blow  away  your  hopes  of  treasure.  I  would  not  kill," 
says  he,  smiling,  "the  goose  with  the  golden  eggs." 

The  charm  of  his  superiority  once  more  triumphed  ; 
and  the  party,  in  no  particular  order,  set  off  on  their 
return.  By  the  way,  he  found  occasion  to  get  a  word 
or  two  apart  with  Mountain. 

"  You  are  a  clever  fellow  and  a  bold,"  says  he,  "but 
I  am  not  so  sure  that  you  are  doing  yourself  Justice.  I 
would  have  you  to  consider  whether  you  would  not  do 
better,  ay,  and  safer,  to  serve  me  instead  of  serving  so 
commonplace  a  rascal  as  Mr.  Harris.  Consider  of  it," 
he  concluded,  dealing  the  man  a  gentle  tap  upon  the 
shoulder,  "  and  don't  be  in  haste.  Dead  or  alive,  you 
will  find  me  an  ill  man  to  quarrel  with." 

When  they  were  come  back  to  the  camp,  where  Harris 
and  Pinkerton  stood  guard  over  Secundra,  these  two 
ran  upon  the  Master  like  viragoes,  and  were  amazed  out 
of  measure  when  they  were  bidden  by  their  comrades  to 
**  stand  back  and  hear  what  the  gentleman  had  to  say." 


THE  JOURNEY   IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  301 

The  Master  had  not  flinched  before  their  onslaught  ; 
nor,  at  this  proof  of  the  ground  he  had  gained,  did  he 
betray  the  least  sufficiency. 

''  Do  not  let  us  be  in  haste,"  says  he.  "Meat  first 
and  public  speaking  after." 

With  that  they  made  a  hasty  meal  :  and  as  soon  as  it 
was  done,  the  Master,  leaning  on  one  elbow,  began  his 
speech.  He  spoke  long,  addressing  himself  to  each 
except  Harris,  finding  for  each  (with  the  same  excep- 
tion) some  particular  flattery.  He  called  them  ''bold, 
honest  blades,"  declared  he  had  never  seen  a  more  jovial 
company,  work  better  done,  or  pains  more  merrily  sup- 
ported. "Well,  then,"  says  he,  "some  one  asks  me, 
Why  the  devil  I  ran  away  ?  But  that  is  scarce  worth 
answer,  for  I  think  you  all  know  pretty  well.  But  you 
know  only  pretty  well  :  tliat  is  a  point  I  sh-all  arrive  at 
presently,  and  be  you  ready  to  remark  it  when  it  comes. 
There  is  a  traitor  here:  a  double  traitor  :  I  will  give 
you  his  name  before  I  am  done  ;  and  let  that  suffice  for 
now.  But  here  comes  some  other  gentleman  and  asks 
me,  '  Why,  in  the  devil  I  came  back  ?  '  Well,  before  I 
answer  that  question,  I  have  one  to  put  to  you.  It  was 
this  cur  here,  this  Harris,  that  speaks  Hindustani?" 
cries  he,  rising  on  one  knee  and  pointing  fair  at  the 
man's  face,  with  a  gesture  indescribably  menacing  ;  and 
when  he  had  been  answered  in  the  affirmative,  "Ah  !" 
eays  he,  ''  then  are  all  my  suspicions  verified,  and  I  did 
rightly  to  come  back.     Now,  men,  hear  the  truth  for 


302  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLAIs'TRAE. 

the  first  time.  Thereupon  he  launched  forth  in  a 
long  story,  told  with  extraordinary  skill,  how  he  had  all 
along  suspected  Harris,  how  lie  had  found  the  confirma- 
tion of  his  fears,  and  how  Harris  must  have  misrej^re- 
sented  what  passed  between  Secundra  and  himself.  At 
this  point  he  made  a  bold  stroke  with  excellent  effect. 
''  I  suj^pose,*'  says  he,  "you  think  you  are  going  shares 
with  Harris,  I  suppose  you  think  you  will  see  to  that 
yourselves  ;  you  would  naturally  not  think  so  flat  a 
rogue  could  cozen  you.  But  have  a  care  !  These  half 
idiots  have  a  sort  of  cunning,  as  the  skunk  has  its 
stench  ;  and  it  may  be  news  to  you  that  Harris  has  taken 
care  of  himself  already.  Yes,  for  him  the  treasure  is 
all  money  in  the  bargain.  You  must  find  it  or  go  starve. 
But  he  has  been  paid  beforehand  ;  my  brother  paid  him 
to  destroy  me  ;  look  at  him,  if  you  doubt — look  at  him, 
grinning  and  gulping,  a  detected  thief  I"  Thence,  hav- 
ing made  this  happy  impression,  he  explained  how  he 
had  escaped,  and  thought  better  of  it,  and  at  last  con- 
cluded to  come  back,  lay  the  truth  before  the  company, 
and  take  his  chance  with  them  once  more  :  persuaded 
as  he  was,  they  would  instantly  depose  Harris  and  elect 
some  other  leader.  "There  is  the  whole  truth,"  said 
he  :  "  and  with  one  exception,  I  jnit  myself  entirely  in 
your  hands.  What  is  the  exception?  There  he  sits,"' 
he  cried,  pointing  once  more  to  Harris;  "a  man  that 
has  to  die  !  TTeapons  and  conditions  are  all  one  to  me; 
put  me  face  to  face  with  him,  and  if  you  give  me  noth- 


THE  JOURNEY  IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  303 

ing  but  a  stick,  in  five  minutes  I  will  show  you  a  sop  of 
broken  carrion,  fit  for  dogs  to  roll  in." 

It  was  dark  night  when  ho  made  an  end  ;  they  had 
listened  in  almost  perfect  silence ;  but  the  firelight 
scarce  permitted  any  one  to  judge,  from  the  look  of  his 
neighbours,  with  what  result  of  persuasion  or  convic- 
tion. Indeed,  the  Master  had  set  himself  in  the  bright- 
est place,  and  kept  his  face  there,  to  be  the  centre 
of  men's  eyes :  doubtless  on  a  profound  calculation. 
Silence  followed  for  awhile,  and  presently  the  whole 
party  became  involved  in  disputation  :  the  Master  lying 
on  his  back,  with  his  hands  knit  under  his  head  and 
one  knee  flung  across  the  other,  like  a  person  uncon- 
cerned in  the  result.  And  here,  I  daresay,  his  bravado 
carried  him  too  far  and  prejudiced  his  case.  At  least, 
after  a  cast  or  two  back  and  forward,  opinion  settled 
finally  against  him.  It's  possible  he  ho^^ed  to  repeat 
the  business  of  the  pirate  ship,  and  be  himself,  perhaps, 
on  hard  enough  conditions,  elected  leader  ;  and  things 
went  so  far  that  way,  that  Mountain  actually  threw  out 
the  proposition.  But  the  rock  he  split  upon  was 
Hastie.  This  fellow  was  not  well  liked,  being  sour  and 
slow,  with  an  ugly,  glowering  disj)osition,  but  he  had 
studied  some  time  for  the  church  at  Edinburgh  Col- 
lege, before  ill  conduct  had  destroyed  his  prospects,  and 
he  now  remembered  and  applied  what  he  had  learned. 
Indeed  he  had  not  proceeded  very  far,  when  the  Master 
rolled  carelessly   upon   one  side,  which   was   done  (in 


304  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

Mountain's  opinion)  to  conceal  the  beginnings  of  de- 
spair upon  his  countenance.  Hastie  dismissed  the  most 
of  what  they  bad  beard  as  notbiug  to  the  matter  :  what 
they  wanted  was  the  treasure.  All  that  was  said  of 
Harris  might  be  true,  and  they  would  have  to  see  to 
that  in  time.  But  what  bad  that  to  do  with  the  trea- 
sure ?  They  bad  heard  a  vast  of  words  ;  but  the  truth 
was  just  this,  that  Mr.  Dnrie  was  damnably  frightened 
and  bad  several  times  run  off.  Hei'e  he  was — whether 
caught  or  come  back  was  all  one  to  Hastie  :  the  point 
was  to  make  an  end  of  the  business.  As  for  the  talk  of 
deposing  and  electing  captains,  be  hoped  they  were  all 
free  men  and  could,  attend  their  own  affairs.  That  was 
dust  flung  in  their  eyes,  and  so  was  the  proposal  to  fight 
Harris.  "He  shall  fight  no  one  in  this  camp,  I  can 
tell  him  that,"  said  Hastie.  "  We  bad  trouble  enough 
to  get  his  arms  away  from  him,  and  we  should  look 
pretty  fools  to  give  them  back  again.  But  if  it's  excite- 
ment the  gentleman  is  after,  I  can  supply  him  with 
more  than  perhaps  he  cares  about.  For  I  have  no 
intention  to  spend  the  remainder  of  my  life  in  these 
mountains  ;  already  I  have  been  too  long ;  and  I  pro- 
pose that  he  should  immediately  tell  us  where  that 
treasure  is,  or  else  immediately  be  shot.  And  there,'' 
says  be,  producing  his  weapon,  ''  there  is  the  pistol  that 
I  mean  to  use." 

"  Come,  I  call  you  a  man,'*  cries  the  Master,  sitting 
up  and  looking  at  the  speaker  with  an  air  of  admiration. 


THE   JOURNEY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS.  305 

"  I  didn't  ask  you  to  call  me  anything,"  returned 
Hastie  ;  ''which  is  it  to  be  ?" 

'■'  That's  an  idle  question,"  said  the  Master.  "  Needs 
must  when  the  devil  drives.  The  truth  is  we  are  within 
easy  walk  of  the  place,  and  I  will  show  it  you  to- 
morrow." 

With  that,  as  if  all  were  quite  settled,  and  settled 
exactly  to  his  mind,  he  walked  off  to  his  tent,  whither 
Secundra  had  preceded  him. 

I  cannot  think  of  these  last  turns  and  wriggles  of  my 
old  enemy  except  with  admiration  ;  scarce  even  pity  is 
mingled  with  the  sentiment,  so  strongly  the  man  sup- 
ported, so  boldly  resisted  his  misfortunes.  Even  at  that 
hour,  when  he  perceived  himself  quite  lost,  when  he 
saw  he  had  but  effected  an  exchange  of  enemies,  and 
overthrown  Harris  to  set  Hastie  up,  no  sign  of  weakness 
appeared  in  his  behaviour,  and  he  withdrew  to  his  tent, 
already  determined  (I  must  suppose)  upon  affronting 
the  incredible  hazard  of  his  last  expedient,  with  the 
same  easy,  assured,  genteel  expression  and  demeanour  as 
he  might  have  left  a  theatre  withal  to  join  a  supper  of 
the  wits.  But  doubtless  within,  if  we  could  see  there, 
his  soul  trembled. 

Early  in  the  night,  word  went  about  the  camp  that 

he  was  sick  ;   and  the  first  thing  the  next  morning  he 

called  Hastie  to  his  side,  and  inquired  most  anxiously 

if  he  had  any  skill  in  medicine.     As  a  matter  of  fact, 

this  was  a  vanity  of  that  fallen  divinity  student's,  to 
20 


806  THE  MASTEE  OF   BALLANTRAE. 

which  he  had  cunningly  addressed  himself.  Hastie  ex- 
amined him  ;  and  being  flattered,  ignorant,  and  highly 
suspicious,  knew  not  in  the  least  whether  the  man  was 
sick  or  malingering.  In  this  state,  he  went  forth  again 
to  his  companions ;  and  (as  the  thing  which  would  give 
himself  most  consequence  either  way)  announced  that 
the  patient  was  in  a  fair  way  to  die. 

*' For  all  that,"  he  added  with  an  oath,  "and  if  he 
bursts  by  the  wayside,  he  must  bring  us  this  morning  to 
the  treasure." 

But  there  w^ere  several  in  the  camp  (Mountain  among 
the  number)  whom  this  brutality  revolted.  They 
would  have  seen  the  Master  pistol'd,  or  pistol'd  him 
themselves,  without  the  smallest  sentiment  of  pity  ;  but 
they  seem  to  have  been  touched  by  his  gallant  fight 
and  unequivocal  defeat  the  night  before  ;  perhaps,  too, 
they  were  even  already  beginning  to  oi)pose  themselves 
to  their  new  leader  :  at  least,  they  now  declared  that  (if 
the  man  was  sick)  he  should  have  a  day's  rest  in  spite 
of  Hastie's  teeth. 

The  next  morning  he  was  manifestly  worse,  and 
Hastie  himself  began  to  display  something  of  humane 
concern,  so  easily  does  even  the  pretence  of  doctoring 
awaken  symj)athy.  The  third,  the  Master  called  Moun- 
tain and  Ilastin  to  the  tent,  announced  himself  to  be 
dying,  gave  them  full  particulars  as  to  the  position  of 
the  cache,  and  begged  them  to  set  out  incontinently  on 
the  quest,  so  that  they  might  see  if  he  deceived  them. 


THE   JOURNEY   IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  307 

and  (if  they  were  at  first  unsuccessful),   he  sliould  be 
able  to  correct  their  error. 

But  here  iirose  a  difficulty  on  which  he  doubtless 
counted.  None  of  these  men  would  trust  another,  none 
would  consent  to  stay  behind.  On  the  other  hand,  al- 
though the  Master  seemed  extremely  low,  spoke  scarce 
above  a  whisper,  and  lay  much  of  the  time  insensible,  it 
was  still  possible  it  was  a  fraudulent  sickness  ;  and  if 
all  went  treasure-hunting,  it  might  prove  they  had  gone 
upon  a  wild-goose  chase,  and  return  to  find  their  pris- 
oner flown.  They  concluded,  therefore,  to  hang  idling 
vound  the  camp,  alleging  sympathy  to  their  reason  ;  and 
certainly,  so  mingled  are  our  disp)Ositions,  several  were 
sincerely  (if  not  very  deeply)  affected  by  the  natural 
peril  of  the  man  whom  they  callously  designed  to 
murder.  In  the  afternoon,  Hastie  was  called  to  the 
bedside  to  i:)ray  :  the  which  (incredible  as  it  must  ap- 
pear) he  did  with  unction  ;  about  eight  at  night,  the 
wailing  of  Secundra  announced  that  all  was  over  ;  and 
before  ten,  the  Indian,  with  a  link  stuck  in  the  ground, 
was  toiling  at  the  grave.  Sunrise  of  next  day  beheld 
the  Master's  burial,  all  hands  attending  with  great 
decency  of  demeanour ;  and  the  body  was  laid  in  the 
earth  wrapped  in  a  fur  robe,  with  only  the  face  un- 
covered ;  which  last  was  of  a  waxy  whiteness,  and  had 
the  nostrils  plugged  according  to  some  oriental  habit 
of  Secundra's.  No  sooner  was  the  grave  filled  than 
the  lamentations  of  the  Indian  once  more  struck  con- 


308  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

cern  to  every  heart ;  and  it  appears  this  gang  of  murder- 
ers, so  far  from  resenting  his  outcries,  although  both 
distressful  and  (in  such  a  country)  perilous  to  theii 
own  safety,  roughly  but  kindly  endeavoured  to  console 
him. 

But  if  human  nature  is  even  in  the  worst  of  men 
occasionally  kind,  it  is  still,  and  before  all  things, 
greedy ;  and  they  soon  turned  from  the  mourner  to 
their  own  concerns.  The  cache  of  the  treasure  being 
hard  by,  although  yet  unidentified,  it  was  concluded 
not  to  break  camj) ;  and  the  day  passed,  on  the  part  of 
the  Toyagers,  in  unavailing  exploration  of  the  woods, 
Secundra  the  while  lying  on  his  master's  grave.  That 
night  they  placed  no  sentinel,  but  lay  all  together  about 
the  fire,  in  the  customary  woodman  fashion,  the  heads 
outward,  like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel.  j\rorning  found 
them  in  the  same  disjiosition  ;  only  Pinkerton,  who  lay 
on  Mountain's  right,  between  him  and  Hastie,  had  (in 
the  hours  of  darkness)  been  secretly  butchered,  and 
there  lay,  still  wj'apped  as  to  his  body  in  his  mantle,  but 
offering  above  that  ungodly  and  horrific  spectacle  of  the 
scalped  head.  The  gang  were  that  morning  as  pale  as  a 
company  of  phantoms,  for  the  pertinacity  of  Indian  war 
(or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  Indian  murder),  was  well 
known  to  all.  But  they  laid  the  chief  blame  on  their 
unsentinel'd  posture ;  and  fired  Avith  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  treasure,  determined  to  continue  where  they  were. 
Pinkerton  was  buried  hard  by  the  Master ;    the  sur- 


THE   JOURNEY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS.  809 

rivors  again  passed  the  day  in  exploration,  and  returned 
in  a  mingled  humour  of  anxiety  and  hope,  being  partly 
certain  they  were  now  close  on  the  discovery  of  what 
they  sought,  and  on  the  other  hand  (with  the  return  of 
darkness)  vi^ere  infected  with  the  fear  of  Indians.  Moun- 
tain was  the  first  sentry;  he  declares  he  neither  slept 
nor  yet  sat  down,  but  kept  his  watch  with  a  perpetual 
and  straining  vigilance,  and  it  was  even  with  unconcern 
that  (when  he  saw  by  the  stars  his  time  was  up)  he  drew 
near  the  fire  to  waken  his  successor.  This  man  (it  was 
Hicks  the  shoemaker)  slept  on  the  lee  side  of  the  circle, 
something  further  off  in  consequence  than  those  to 
windward,  and  in  a  place  darkened  by  the  blowing 
smoke.  Mountain  stooped  and  took  him  by  the  shoul- 
der ;  his  hand  was  at  once  smeared  by  some  adhesive 
wetness ;  and  (the  wind  at  the  moment  veering)  the  fire- 
light shone  upon  the  sleeper  and  showed  him,  like 
Pinkerton,  dead  and  scalped. 

It  was  clear  they  had  fallen  in  the  hands  of  one 
of  those  matchless  Indian  bravos,  that  will  sometimes 
follow  a  party  for  days,  and  in  spite  of  indefatigable 
travel  and  unsleeping  watch,  continue  to  keep  up  with 
their  advance  and  steal  a  scalp  at  every  resting-place. 
Upon  this  discovery,  the  treasure-seekers,  already  reduced 
to  a  ipoor  half  dozen,  fell  into  mere  dismay,  seized  a  few 
necessaries,  and  deserting  the  remainder  of  their  goods, 
fled  outright  into  the  forest.  Their  fire,  they  left  still 
burning,  and  their  dead  comrade   uuburied.     All   day 


310  THE   MASTER   OF  BALLANTRAE. 

thej  ceased  not  to  flee,  eating  by  the  way,  from  hand  to 
mouth  ;  and  since  they  feared  to  sleep,  continued  to 
advance  at  random  even  in  tlie  hours  of  darkness.  But 
the  limit  of  man's  endurance  is  soon  reached  ;  when 
they  rested  at  last,  it  was  to  sleep  profoundly ;  and 
when  they  woke,  it  was  to  find  that  the  enemy  was 
still  upon  their  heels,  and  death  and  mutilation  had 
once  more  lessened  and  deformed  their  company. 

By  this,  they  had  become  light-headed,  they  had  quite 
missed  their  path  in  the  Wilderness,  their  stores  were 
already  running  low.  With  the  further  horrors,  it  is 
superfluous  that  I  should  swell  this  narrative,  already 
too  prolonged.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  when  at  length 
a  night  passed  by  innocuous,  and  they  might  breathe 
again  m  the  hope  that  the  murderer  had  at  last  desisted 
from  pursuit.  Mountain  and  Secundra  were  alone. 
The  trader  is  firmly  persuaded  their  unseen  enemy  was 
some  warrior  of  his  own  acquaintance,  and  that  he  him- 
self was  spared  by  favour.  The  mercy  extended  to  Se- 
cundra he  explains  on  the  ground  that  the  East  Indian 
was  thought  to  be  insane ;  partly  from  the  fact  that, 
through  all  the  horrors  of  the  flight  and  while  others 
were  casting  away  their  very  food  and  weapons,  Secun- 
dra continued  to  stagger  forward  with  a  mattock  on  his 
shoulder  ;  and  partly  because,  in  the  last  days  and  with 
a  great  degree  of  heat  and  fluency,  he  perjietually  spoke 
with  himself  in  his  own  language.  But  he  was  sane 
enougli  when  it  came  to  English. 


THE   JOURNEY  IN   THE   WILDERNESS.  311 

**  You  think  he  will  he  gone  quite  away  ?  "  he  asked, 
upon  their  hlest  awakening  in  safety. 

"I  pray  God  so,  I  believe  so,  I  dare  to  believe  so," 
Mountain  had  replied  almost  with  incoherence,  as  he 
described  the  scene  to  me. 

And  indeed  he  was  so  much  distempered  that  until  he 
met  us,  the  next  morning,  he  could  scarce  be  certain 
whether  he  had  dreamed,  or  whether  it  was  a  fact,  that 
Secundra  had  thereupon  turned  directly  about  and  re- 
turned without  a  word  upon  their  footprints,  setting 
his  face  for  these  wintry  and  hungry  solitudes,  along  a 
path  whose  every  stage  was  mile-stoned  with  a  muti- 
lated corpse. 


THE  JOUKNEY    IN    THE    WILDERNESS   {Con- 
eluded). 

Mountain's  story,  as  it  was  laid  before  Sir  William 
Johnson  and  my  lord,  was  shorn,  of  course,  of  all  the 
earlier  particulars,  and  the  expedition  described  to  have 
proceeded  uneventfully,  until  the  Master  sickened.  But 
the  latter  part  was  very  forcibly  related,  the  speaker 
visibly  thrilling  to  his  recollections  ;  and  our  then  situ- 
ation, on  the  fringe  of  the  same  desert,  and  the  private 
interests  of  each,  gave  him  an  audience  prepared  to 
share  in  his  emotions.  For  Mountain's  intelligence  not 
only  changed  the  world  for  my  Lord  Durrisdeer,  but 
materially  affected  the  designs  of  Sir  W^illiam  Johnson. 

These  I  find  I  must  lay  more  at  length  before  the 
reader.  Word  had  reached  Albany  of  dubious  import  ; 
it  had  been  rumoured  some  hostility  was  to  be  put  in 
act ;  and  the  Indian  diplomatist  had,  thereupon,  sped 
into  the  wilderness,  even  at  the  approach  of  winter,  to 
nip  that  mischief  in  the  bud.  Here,  on  the  borders, 
he  learned  that  he  was  come  too  late ;  and  a  difficult 
choice  was  thus  presented  to  a  man  (upon  the  whole) 
not  any  more  bold  than  prudent.  His  standing  with 
the  painted  braves  may  be  compared  to  that  of  my  Lord 


THE   JOURNEY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS.  813 

President  Culloden  among  the  chiefs  of  our  own  High- 
landers at  the  'forty-five  ;  that  is  as  much  as  to  say,  he 
was,  to  these  men,  reason's  only  speaking  trumpet,  and 
counsels  of  peace  and  moderation,  if  they  were  to  pre- 
vail at  all,  must  prevail  singly  through  his  influence. 
If,  then,  he  should  return,  the  province  must  lie  open 
to  all  the  abominable  tragedies  of  Indian  war — the 
houses  blaze,  the  wayfarer  be  cut  off,  and  the  men  of 
the  woods  collect  their  usual  disgusting  spoil  of  human 
scalps.  On  the  other  side,  to  go  further  forth,  to  risk 
so  small  a  party  deeper  in  the  desert,  to  carry  words  of 
peace  among  warlike  savages  already  rejoicing  to  return 
to  war  :  here  was  an  extremity  from  which  it  was  easy 
to  perceive  his  mind  revolted. 

"  I  have  come  too  late,"  he  said  more  than  once,  and 
would  fall  into  a  deep  consideration,  his  head  bowed  in 
his  hands,  his  foot  patting  the  ground. 

At  length  he  i-aised  his  face  and  looked  upon  us,  that 
is  to  say,  upon  my  lord.  Mountain,  and  myself,  sitting 
close  round  a  small  fire,  which  had  been  made  for  pri- 
vacy in  one  corner  of  the  camp. 

*'  My  lord,  to  be  quite  frank  "with  you,  I  find  myself  in 
two  minds,"  said  he.  "  I  think  it  very  needful  I  should 
go  on,  but  not  at  all  proper  I  should  any  longer  enjoy 
the  pleasure  of  your  company.  "We  are  here  still  upon 
the  water  side ;  and  I  think  the  risk  to  southward  no 
great  matter.  Will  not  yourself  and  Mr.  Mackellar 
take  a  single  boat's  crew  and  return  to  Albany  ?  " 


314  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTEAE. 

My  lord,  I  should  say,  had  listened  to  Mountain's 
narrative  regarding  him  throughout  with  a  painful  in- 
tensity of  gaze  ;  and  since  the  tale  concluded,  had  sat 
as  in  a  dream.  There  was  something  very  daunting  in 
his  look  ;  something  to  my  eyes  not  rightly  human  ;'the 
face,  lean,  and  dark,  and  aged,  the  mouth  painful,  the 
teeth  disclosed  in  a  perpetual  rictus ;  the  eyeball  swim- 
ming clear  of  the  lids  upon  a  field  of  blood-shot  white. 
I  could  not  behold  him  myself  without  a  jarring  irrita- 
tion, such  as  (I  believe)  is  too  frequently  the  uppermost 
feeling  on  the  sickness  of  those  dear  to  us.  Others,  I 
could  not  but  remark,  were  scarce  able  to  support  his 
neighbourhood — Sir  William  eviting  to  be  near  him. 
Mountain  dodging  his  eye,  and,  when  he  met  it,  blench- 
ing and  halting  in  his  story.  At  this  appeal,  however, 
my  lord  appeared  to  recover  his  command  upon  him- 
self. 

"  To  Albany  ?  "  said  he,  with  a  good  voice. 

*•'  Not  short  of  it,  at  least,"  replied  Sir  William. 
*'  There  is  no  safety  nearer  hand." 

*' I  would  be  very  sweir*  to  return,"  says  my  lord. 
**  I  am  not  afraid — of  Indians,"  he  added,  with  a  jerk. 

"  I  wish  that  I  could  say  so  much,"  returned  Sir 
William,  smiling  ;  ''although,  if  any  man  durst  say  it, 
it  should  be  myself.  But  you  are  to  keep  in  view  my 
responsibility,  and  that  as  the  voyage  has  now  become 
highly  dangerous,  and  your  business — if  you  ever  had 
*  Unwillin''. 


THE   JOUENEY   IN  THE    WILDERNESS.  315 

any,"  says  he,  "brought  quite  to  a  conclusion  by  the 
distressing  family  intelligence  you  have  received,  I 
should  be  hardly  justified  if  I  even  suffered  you  to  pro- 
ceed, and  run  the  risk  of  some  obloquy  if  anything 
regrettable  should  follow." 

My  lord  turned  to  Mountain.  '*  What  did  he  pretend 
he  died  of  ?  "  he  asked. 

"I  don't  think  I  understand  your  honour,"  said  the 
trader,  pausing  like  a  man  very  much  affected,  in  the 
dressing  of  some  cruel  frost-bites. 

For  a  moment  my  lord  seemed  at  a  full  stop  ;  and 
then,  with  some  irritation,  '^  I  ask  you  what  he  died  of. 
Surely  that's  a  plain  question,"  said  he. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Mountain.  "  Hastie  even 
never  knew.  He  seemed  to  sicken  natural,  and  Just  pass 
away." 

"There  it  is,  you  see  !  "  concluded  my  lord,  turning 
to  Sir  William. 

"Your  lordship  is  too  deep  for  me,"  replied  Sir  Wil- 
liam. 

"  Why,"  says  my  lord,  "  this  is  a  matter  of  succession  ; 
my  son's  title  may  be  called  in  doubt ;  and  the  man 
being  supposed  to  be  dead  of  nobody  can  tell  what,  a 
great  deal  of  suspicion  would  be  naturally  roused." 

"But,  God  damn  me,  the  man's  buried  !"  cried  Sir 
William. 

"  I  will  never  believe  that,"  returned  my  lord,  pain- 
fully trembling.     "  I'll  never  believe  it!  "  he  cried  again, 


316        THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

and  jumped  to  his  feet.  "  Did  he  looh  dead  ?  "  he  asked 
of  Mountain. 

*'Look  dead?"  repeated  the  trader.  "He  looked 
white.  Why,  what  would  he  be  at  ?  I  tell  you,  I  put 
the  sods  upon  him," 

My  lord  caught  Sir  William  by  the  coat  with  a  hooked 
hand.  '' This  man  has  the  name  of  my  brother,"  says 
he,  "but  it's  well  understood  that  he  was  never  canny." 

"  Canny  ?  "  says  Sir  William.     "  What  is  that  ?  " 

*•'  He's  not  of  this  world,"  whispered  my  lord, 
*'  neither  him  nor  the  black  deil  that  serves  him.  I 
have  struck  my  sword  throughout  his  vitals,"  he  cried, 
"  I  have  felt  the  hilt  dirl  *  on  his  breastbone,  and  the 
hot  blood  spirt  in  my  very  face,  time  and  again,  time 
and  again  I "  he  repeated,  with  a  gesture  indescribable. 
"  But  he  was  never  dead  for  tliat,"  said  he,  and  I  sighed 
aloud.  '"Why  should  I  think  he  was  dead  now  ?  No, 
not  till  I  see  him  rotting,"  says  he. 

Sir  William  looked  across  at  me,  with  a  long  face. 
Mountain  forgot  his  wounds,  staring  and  gaping. 

*'  My  lord,"  said  I,  "  I  wish  you  would  collect  your 
(Spirits."  But  my  throat  was  so  dry,  and  my  own  wits 
so  scattered,  I  could  add  no  more. 

"No,"  sa3's  my  lord,  "  it's  not  to  be  supposed  that  he 

would  understand  me.     Mackellar  does,  for  he  kens  all, 

and  has  seen  him  buried  before  now.     This  is  a  very 

good  servant  to  me.  Sir  William,  this  man  Mackellar; 

*  Ring. 


THE  JOUENEY   IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  317 

he  buried  him  with  his  own  hands — he  and  my  father- 
by  the  light  of  two  siller  candlesticks.  The  other  man 
is  a  familiar  spirit ;  he  brought  him  from  Coromandel. 
I  would  have  told  ye  this  long  syne,  Sir  William,  only  it 
was  in  the  family."  These  last  remarks  he  made  with 
a  kind  of  a  melancholy  composure,  and  his  time  of  aber- 
ration seemed  to  pass  away.  "  You  can  ask  yourself 
what  it  all  means,"  he  proceeded.  ''My  brother  falls 
sick,  and  dies,  and  is  buried,  as  so  they  say ;  and  all 
seems  very  plain.  But  why  did  the  familiar  go  back  ? 
I  think  ye  must  see  for  yourself  it's  a  point  that  wants 
some  clearing." 

"  I  will  be  at  your  service,  my  lord,  in  half  a  minute," 
said  Sir  William,  rising.  "  Mr.  Mackellar,  two  words 
with  you,"  and  he  led  me  without  the  camp,  the  frost 
crunching  in  our  steps,  the  trees  standing  at  our  elbow 
hoar  with  frost,  even  as  on  that  night  in  the  Long  Shrub- 
bery. *•■  Of  course,  this  is  midsummer  madness  ?"  said 
Sir  William,  so  soon  as  we  were  gotten  out  of  hear- 
ing. 

"  Why,  certainly,"  said  I.  ''  The  man  is  mad.  I 
think  that  manifest." 

''Shall  I  seize  and  bind  him?"  asked  Sir  William. 
*'  I  will  upon  your  authority.  If  these  are  all  ravings, 
that  should  certainly  be  done. " 

I  looked  down  upon  the  ground,  back  at  the  camp 
with  its  bright  fires  and  the  folk  watching  us,  and  about 
me  on  the  woods  and  mountains  ;    there  was  just  the 


818  THE  MASTER  OF   BALLANTRAK 

one  way  that  I  could  not  look,  and  that  was  in  Sir 
William's  face. 

"Sir  William,"  said  I  at  last,  "  I  think  my  lord  not 
sane,  and  have  long  thought  him  so.  But  there  are 
degrees  in  madness  ;  and  whether  he  should  be  brought 
under  restraint — Sir  William,  I  am  no  fit  judge,"  I 
concluded. 

"I  will  be  the  judge,"  said  he.  "I  ask  for  facts. 
Was  there,  in  all  that  jargon,  any  word  of  truth  or 
sanity?  Do  you  hesitate?"  he  asked.  ''Am  I  to 
understand  you  have  buried  this  gentleman  before  ?  " 

"Not  buried,"  said  I ;  and  then,  taking  up  courage 
at  last,  "Sir  William,"  said  I,  "unless  I  were  to  tell 
you  a  long  story,  which  much  concerns  a  noble  family 
(and  myself  not  in  the  least),  it  would  be  impossible  to 
make  this  matter  clear  to  you.  Say  the  word,  and  I  will 
do  it,  right  or  wrong.  And,  at  any  rate,  I  will  say  so 
much,  that  my  lord  is  not  so  crazy  as  he  seems.  This 
is  a  strange  matter,  into  the  tail  of  which  you  are 
unhappily  drifted." 

"  I  desire  none  of  your  secrets,"  replied  Sir  William  ; 
"but  I  will  be  plain,  at  the  risk  of  incivility,  and  con- 
fess that  I  take  little  pleasure  in  my  present  com- 
pany." 

"I  would  be  the  last  to  blame  you,"  said  I,  "for 
that." 

"I  have  not  asked  either  for  your  censure  or  your 
praise,  sir,"  returned  Sir  William.     "  I  desire  simply  to 


THE   JOURNEY   IN"  THE   WILDERNESS.  319 

be  quit  of  you  ;  and  to  that  effect,  I  put  a  boat  and 
complement  of  men  at  your  disposal." 

"  This  is  fairly  offered,"  said  I,  after  reflection. 
*'But  you  must  suffer  me  to  say  a  word  upon  the  other 
side.  We  have  a  natural  curiosity  to  learn  the  truth  of 
this  affair ;  I  have  some  of  it  myself  ;  my  lord  (it  is 
very  plain)  has  but  too  much.  The  matter  of  the 
Indian's  return  is  enigmatical." 

*' I  think  so  myself,"  Sir  William  interrupted,  *'and 
I  propose  (since  I  go  in  that  direction)  to  probe  it  to 
the  bottom.  Whether  or  not  the  man  has  gone  lil<e  a 
dog  to  die  upon  his  master's  grave,  his  life,  at  least,  is  in 
great  danger,  and  I  propose,  if  I  can,  to  save  it.  There 
is  nothing  against  his  character  ?  " 

''Nothing,  Sir  William,"  I  replied. 

"And  the  other  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  have  heard  my  lord, 
of  course  ;  but,  from  the  circumstances  of  his  servant's 
loyalty,  I  must  suppose  he  had  some  noble  qualities." 

"  You  must  not  ask  me  that  !  "  T  cried.  "  Hell  may 
have  noble  flames.  I  have  known  him  a  score  of  years, 
and  always  hated,  and  always  admired,  and  always  slav- 
ishly feared  him." 

''I  appear  to  intrude  again  upon  your  secrets,"  said 
Sir  William,  "believe  me,  inadvertently.  Enough  that 
I  will  see  the  grave,  and  (if  possible)  rescue  the  Indian. 
Upon  these  terms,  can  you  persuade  your  master  to 
return  to  Albany  ?  " 

"Sir  William,"  said  I,   "I  will  tell  you  how  it  is. 


820  THE  MASTER  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

Yoli  do  not  see  my  lord  to  advantage ;  it  will  seem  even 
strange  to  you  that  I  should  love  him  ;  but  I  do,  and  I 
am  not  alone.  If  he  goes  back  to  Albany,  it  must  be 
by  force,  and  it  will  be  the  death-warrant  of  his  reason, 
and  perhaps  his  life.  That  is  my  sincere  belief  ;  but  I 
am  in  your  hands,  and  ready  to  obey,  if  you  will  assume 
so  much  responsibility  as  to  command." 

"I  will  have  no  shred  of  responsibility;  it  is  my 
single  endeavour  to  avoid  the  same,"  cried  Sir  "William. 
"  You  insist  upon  following  this  journey  up  ;  and  be  it 
so  !    I  wash  my  hands  of  the  whole  matter." 

With  which  word,  he  turned  upon  his  heel  and  gave 
the  order  to  break  camp  ;  and  my  lord,  who  had  been 
hovering  near  by,  came  instantly  to  my  side. 

"  Which  is  it  to  be  ?"  said  he. 

"  You  are  to  have  your  way,"  I  answered.  *'  You 
shall  see  the  grave." 

Tbe  situation  of  the  Master's  grave  was,  between 
guides,  easily  described  ;  it  lay,  indeed,  beside  a  chief 
landmark  of  the  wilderness,  a  certain  range  of  peaks, 
conspicuous  by  their  design  and  altitude,  and  the  source 
of  many  brawling  tributaries  to  that  inland  sea.  Lake 
Champlain.  It  was  therefore  possible  to  strike  for  it 
direct,  instead  of  following  back  the  blood-stained  trail 
of  the  fugitives,  and  to  cover,  in  some  sixteen  hours  of 
march,  a  distance  which  their  perturbed  wanderings 
had  extended  over  more  than  sixty.     Our  boats  we  left 


THE   JOURNEY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS.  821 

nnder  a  guard  upon  the  river  ;  It  was,  indeed,  probable 
we  should  return  to  find  them  frozen  fast ;  and  the 
small  equipment  with  which  we  set  forth  upon  the 
expedition,  included  not  only  an  infinity  of  furs  to  pro- 
tect us  from  the  cold,  but  an  arsenal  of  snow-shoes  to 
render  travel  possible,  when  the  inevitable  snow  should 
fall.  Considerable  alarm  was  manifested  at  our  depar- 
ture ;  the  march  was  conducted  with  soldierly  precau- 
tiou,  the  camp  at  night  sedulously  chosen  and  patrolled  ; 
and  it  was  a  consideration  of  this  sort  that  arrested  us, 
the  second  day,  within  not  many  hundred  yards  of  our 
destination — the  night  being  already  imminent,  the 
spot  in  which  we  stood  well  qualified  to  be  a  strong 
camp  for  a  party  of  our  numbers  ;  and  Sir  William, 
therefore,  on  a  sudden  thought,  arresting  our  advance. 
Before  us  was  the  high  range  of  mountains  toward 
which  we  had  been  all  day  deviously  drawing  near. 
From  the  first  light  of  the  dawn,  their  silver  peaks  had 
been  the  goal  of  our  advance  across  a  tumbled  lowland 
forest,  thrid  with  rough  streams,  and  strewn  with  mon- 
strous boulders ;  the  peaks  (as  I  say)  silver,  for  already 
at  the  higher  altitudes  the  snow  fell  nightly  ;  but  the 
woods  and  the  low  ground  only  breathed  upon  with 
frost.  All  day  heaven  had  been  charged  with  ugly 
vapours,  in  the  which  the  sun  swam  and  glimmered  like 
a  shilling  piece  ;  all  day  the  wind  blew  on  our  left  cheek, 
barbarous  cold,  but  very  pure  to  breathe.  With  the  end 
of  the  afternoon,  however,  the  wind  fell  ;  the  clouds, 
21 


322  THE   MASTEE  OF  BALLANTRAE. 

being  no  longer  reinforced,  were  scattered  or  drunk  up; 
the  sun  set  behind  us  with  some  wintry  splendour,  and 
the  white  brow  of  the  mountains  shared  its  dying  glow. 

It  was  dark  ere  we  had  supper  ;  we  ate  in  silence,  and 
the  meal  was  scarce  despatched  before  my  lord  slunk 
from  the  fireside  to  the  margin  of  the  camp ;  whither 
I  made  haste  to  follow  him.  The  camp  was  on  high 
ground,  overlooking  a  frozen  lake,  perhaps  a  mile  in  its 
longest  measurement ;  all  about  us,  the  forest  lay  in 
heights  and  hollows  ;  above  rose  the  white  mountains; 
and  higher  ^^et,  the  moon  rode  in  a  fair  sky.  There 
was  no  breath  of  air ;  nowhere  a  twig  creaked ;  and  the 
sounds  of  our  own  camp  were  hushed  and  swallowed  up 
in  the  surrounding  stillness.  Now  that  the  sun  and  the 
wind  were  both  gone  down,  it  appeared  almost  warm, 
like  a  night  of  July  :  a  singular  illusion  of  the  sense, 
when  earth,  air,  and  water  were  strained  to  bursting 
with  the  extremity  of  frost. 

My  lord  (or  what  I  still  continued  to  call  by  his  loved 
name)  stood  with  his  elbow  in  one  hand,  and  his  chin 
sunk  in  the  other,  gazing  before  him  on  the  surface  of 
the  wood.  My  eyes  followed  his,  and  rested  almost 
pleasantly  upon  the  frosted  contexture  of  the  pines, 
rising  in  moonlit  hillocks,  or  sinking  in  the  shadow  of 
small  glens.  Hard  by,  I  told  myself,  was  the  grave  of 
our  enemy,  now  gone  where  the  wicked  cease  from 
troubling,  the  earth  heaped  forever  on  his  once  so  active 
limbs.     I  could  not  but  think  of  bim  as  somehow  for* 


THE  JOURNEY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS.  823 

tunate,  to  be  thus  done  with  man's  anxiety  and  weari- 
ness, the  daily  expense  of  spirit,  and  that  daily  river  of 
circumstance  to  be  swum  through,  at  any  hazard,  under 
the  penalty  of  shame  or  death.  I  could  not  but  think 
how  good  was  the  end  of  that  long  travel ;  and  with 
Lhat,  my  mind  swung  at  a  tangent  to  my  lord.  For  was 
not  my  lord  dead  also  ?  a  maimed  soldier,  looking  vainly 
for  discharge,  lingering  derided  in  the  line  of  battle  ? 
A  kind  man,  I  remembered  him ;  wise,  with  a  decent 
pride,  a  son  perhaps  too  dutiful,  a  husband  only  too 
loving,  one  that  could  suffer  and  be  silent,  one  whose 
hand  I  loved  to  press.  Of  a  sudden,  pity  caught  in 
my  windpipe  with  a  sob ;  I  could  have  wept  aloud  to 
remember  and  behold  him ;  and  standing  thus  by  his 
elbow,  under  the  broad  moon,  I  prayed  fervently  either 
that  he  should  be  released,  or  I  strengthened  to  persist 
in  my  affection. 

"  0  God,"  said  I,  "  this  was  the  best  man  to  me 
and  to  himself,  and  now  I  shrink  from  him.  He  did  no 
wrong,  or  not  till  he  was  broke  with  sorrows  ;  these  are 
but  his  honourable  wounds  that  we  begin  to  shrink  from. 
0  cover  them  up,  0  take  him  away,  before  we  hate 
him  ! " 

I  was  still  so  engaged  in  my  own  bosom,  when  a  sound 
broke  suddenly  upon  the  night.  It  was  neither  very 
loud,  nor  very  near  ;  yet,  bursting  as  it  did  from  so  pro- 
found and  so  prolonged  a  silence,  it  startled  the  camp 
like  an  alarm  of  trumpets.     Ere  I  had  taken  breath,  Sii 


824  THE   MASTER  OF  BALLANTEAE. 

William  was  beside  me,  the  maiu  part  of  the  voyagera 
clustered  at  his  back,  intently  giving  ear.  Methought, 
as  I  glanced  at  them  across  my  shoulder,  there  was  a 
whiteness,  other  than  moonlight,  on  their  cheeks  ;  and 
the  rays  of  the  moon  reflected  with  a  sparkle  on  the  eyes 
of  some,  and  the  shadows  lying  black  under  the  brows 
of  others  (according  as  they  raised  or  bowed  the  head  to 
listen)  gave  to  the  group  a  strange  air  of  animation 
and  anxiety.  My  lord  was  to  the  front,  crouching  a 
little  forth,  his  hand  raised  as  for  silence  :  a  man  turned 
to  stone.  And  still  the  sounds  continued,  breathlessly 
renewed,  with  a  precipitate  rhythm. 

Suddenly  Mountain  spoke  in  a  loud,  broken  whisper, 
as  of  a  man  relieved.  "  I  have  it  now,"  he  said  ;  and, 
as  we  all  turned  to  hear  him,  "the  Indian  must  have 
known  the  cache,"  he  added.  ''That  is  he — he  is  dig- 
ging out  the  treasure." 

"  Why,  to  be  sure  ! "  exclaimed  Sir  William.  "  We 
were  geese  not  to  have  supposed  so  much." 

''  The  only  thing  is,"  Mountain  resumed,  '•'  the  sound 
is  very  close  to  our  old  camjj.  And,  again,  I  do  not  see 
how  he  is  there  before  us,  unless  the  man  had  wings  !  " 

*' Greed  and  fear  are  wings,"  remarked  Sir  William. 
"But  this  rogue  has  given  us  an  alert,  and  I  have  a 
notion  to  return  the  compliment.  What  say  you,  gentle- 
men, shall  we  have  a  moonlight  hunt  ?" 

It  was  so  agreed  ;  dispositions  were  made  to  surround 
Secundra  at  his  task  ;   some  of  Sir  William's  Indians 


THE   JOURNEY   IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  325 

hastened  in  advance  ;  and  a  strong  guard  being  left  at 
our  headquarters,  we  set  forth  along  the  uneven  bottom 
of  the  forest ;  frost  crackling,  ice  sometimes  loudly  split- 
ting under  foot ;  and  overhead  the  blackness  of  pine- 
woods,  and  the  broken  brightness  of  the  moon.  Our 
way  led  down  into  a  hollow  of  the  land ;  and  as  we 
descended,  the  sounds  diminished  and  had  almost  died 
away.  Upon  the  other  slope  it  was  more  open,  only 
dotted  with  a  few  pines,  and  several  vast  and  scattered 
rocks  that  made  inky  shadows  in  the  moonlight.  Here 
the  sounds  began  to  reach  us  more  distinctly  ;  we  could 
now  perceive  the  ring  of  iron,  and  more  exactly  estimate 
the  furious  degree  of  haste  with  which  the  digger  plied 
his  instrument.  As  we  neared  the  top  of  the  ascent,  a 
bird  or  two  winged  aloft  and  hovered  darkly  in  the 
moonlight ;  and  the  next  moment,  we  were  gazing 
through  a  fringe  of  trees  upon  a  singular  picture. 

A  narrow  plateau,  overlooked  by  the  white  mountains, 
and  encompassed  nearer  hand  by  woods,  lay  bare  to  the 
strong  radiance  of  the  moon.  Eough  goods,  such  as 
make  the  wealth  of  foi*esters,  were  sprinkled  here  and 
there  upon  the  ground  in  meaningless  disarray.  About 
the  midst,  a  tent  stood,  silvered  with  frost ;  the  door 
open,  gaping  on  the  black  interior.  At  the  one  end  of 
this  small  stage,  lay  what  seemed  the  tattered  remnants 
of  a  man.  Without  doubt  we  had  arrived  upon  the 
scene  of  Harris's  encampment  ;  there  were  the  goods 
scattered  in  the  panic  of  flight ;  it  was  in  yon  tent  the 


326  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

Master  breathed  his  last ;  and  the  frozen  carrion  that 
lay  before  us  was  the  body  of  the  drunken  shoemaker. 
It  was  always  moving  to  come  upon  the  theatre  of 
any  tragic  incident  ;  to  come  upon  it  after  so  many 
days,  and  to  find  it  (in  the  seclusion  of  a  desert) 
«till  unchanged,  must  have  impressed  the  mind  of  the 
most  careless.  And  yet  it  was  not  that  which  struck 
us  into  pillars  of  stone ;  but  the  sight  (which  yet  we 
had  been  half  expecting)  of  Secundra,  ankle  deep  in 
the  grave  of  his  late  master.  He  had  cast  the  main 
part  of  his  raiment  by,  yet  his  frail  arms  and  shoulders 
glistered  in  the  moonlight  with  a  copious  sweat ;  his 
face  was  contracted  with  anxiety  and  expectation  ;  his 
blows  resounded  on  the  grave,  as  thick  as  sobs  ;  and  be- 
hind him,  strangely  deformed  and  ink-black  upon  the 
frosty  ground,  the  creature's  shadow  repeated  and  paro- 
died his  swift  gesticulations.  Some  night  birds  arose 
from  the  boughs  upon  our  coming,  and  then  settled 
back ;  but  Secundra,  absorbed  in  his  toil,  heard  or 
heeded  not  at  &"•!. 

I  heard  Mountain  whisper  to  Sir  William  :  "Good 
God,  it's  the  grave  !  He's  digging  him  up  ! "  It  was 
what  we  had  all  guessed,  and  yet  to  hear  it  put  in  lan- 
guage thrilled  me.     Sir  William  violently  started. 

"  You  damned  sacrilegious  hound ! "  he  cried. 
"  What's  this  ?  " 

Secundra  leaped  in  the  air,  a  little  breathless  cry 
escaped  him,  the  tool  flew  from  his  grasp,  and  he  stood 


SECUNDKA,  ABSOKUEU  IJV    HIS  TOIL,   HEAKU  OK   HEEDED   NOT  AT  ALL. 


THE  JOURNEY   IN   THE   WILDERNESS.  327 

one  instant  staring  at  the  speaker.  The  next,  swift  as  an 
arrow,  he  sped  for  the  woods  upon  the  farther  side  ;  and 
the  next  again,  throwing  up  his  hands  with  a  violent 
gesture  of  resolution,  he  had  begun  already  to  retrace 
his  steps. 

"  Well,  then,  you  come,  you  help "  he  was  say- 
ing. But  by  now  my  lord  had  stepped  beside  Sir  AVil- 
liam  ;  the  moon  shone  fair  upon  his  face,  and  the  words 
were  still  upon  Secundra's  lips,  when  he  beheld  and 
recognised  his  master's  enemy.  '' Him  !"  he  screamed, 
clasping  his  hands  and  shrinking  on  himself. 

''Come,  come,"  said  Sir  William,  "there  is  none 
here  to  do  you  harm,  if  you  be  innocent ;  and  if  you  be 
guilty,  your  escape  is  quite  cut  off.  Speak,  what  do 
you  here  among  the  graves  of  the  dead  and  the  remains 
of  the  uuburied  ?" 

"You  no  murderer?"  inquired  Secundra.  "You 
true  man  ?    You  see  me  safe  ?  " 

"I  will  see  you  safe,  if  you  be  innocent,"  returned  Sir 
William.  "I  have  said  the  thing,  and  I  see  not  where- 
fore you  should  doubt  it." 

"There  all  murderers,"  cried  Secundra,  "that  is 
why !  He  kill — murderer,"  pointing  to  Mountain ; 
"  there  two  hire-murderers," — pointing  to  my  lord  and 
myself — "all  gallows-murderers  !  Ah,  I  see  you  all  swing 
in  a  rope.  Now  I  go  save  tjie  sahib  ;  he  see  you  swing 
in  a  rope.  The  sahib,"  he  continued,  pointing  to  the 
grave,  "he  not  dead.     He  bury,  he  not  dead." 


328  THE   MASTEK   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

My  lord  uttered  a  little  noise,  moved  nearer  to  the 
grave,  and  stood  and  stared  in  it. 

"  Buried  and  not  dead  ? "  exclaimed  Sir  William. 
'^  What  kind  of  rant  is  this  ?  " 

"See,  sahib!"  said  Secundra.  ''The  sahib  and  I 
alone  with  murderers ;  try  all  way  to  escape,  no  way 
good.  Then  try  this  way  :  good  way  in  warm  climate, 
good  way  in  India ;  here  in  this  dam  cold  place,  who 
can  tell  ?  I  tell  you  pretty  good  hurry  :  you  help,  you 
light  a  fire,  help  rub." 

"What  is  the  creature  talking  of?"  cried  Sir  Wil- 
liam.    "  My  head  goes  round." 

''I  tell  you  I  bury  him  alive,"  said  Secundra.  "I 
teach  him  swallow  his  tongue.  Now  dig  him  up 
pretty  good  hurry,  and  he  not  much  worse.  You  light 
a  fire." 

Sir  William  turned  to  the  nearest  of  his  men.  "  Light 
a  fire,"  said  he.  *'  My  lot  seems  to  be  cast  with  the 
insane." 

**  You  good  man,"  returned  Secundra.  *'Now  I  go 
dig  the  sahib  up." 

He  returned  as  he  spoke  to  the  grave,  and  resumed  his 
former  toil.  My  lord  stood  rooted,  and  I  at  my  lord's 
side  :  fearing  I  knew  not  what. 

The  frost  was  not  yet  very  deep,  and  presently  the 
Indian  threw  aside  his  tool  and  began  to  scoop  the  dirt 
by  handfuls.  Then  he  disengaged  a  corner  of  a  buffalo 
robe  :  and  then  I  saw  hair  catch  among  his  fingers  ;  yet 


THE   JOURNEY   IN  THE   WILDERNESS.  329 

a  moment  more,  and  the  moon  shone  on  something 
white.  Awhile  Secundra  crouched  upon  his  knees, 
scraping  with  delicate  fingers  breathing  with  puffed 
lips  ;  and  when  he  moved  aside  I  beheld  the  face  of  the 
Master  wholly  disengaged.  It  was  deadly  white,  the 
eyes  closed,  the  ears  and  nostrils  plugged,  the  cheeks 
fallen,  the  nose  sharp  as  if  in  death  ;  but  for  all  he  had 
lain  so  many  days  under  the  sod,  corruption  had  not 
approached  him  and  (what  strangely  affected  all  of  us) 
his  lips  and  chin  were  mantled  with  a  swarthy  beard. 

^'My  God!"  cried  Mountain,  "he  was  as  smooth  as  a 
baby  when  we  laid  him  there  !  " 

''They  say  hair  grows  upon  the  dead,"  observed  Sir 
William,  but  his  voice  was  thick  and  weak. 

Secundra  paid  no  heed  to  our  remarks,  digging  swift 
as  a  terrier,  in  the  loose  earth  ;  every  moment,  the  form 
of  the  Master,  swathed  in  his  buffalo  robe,  grew  more 
distinct  in  the  bottom  of  that  shallow  trough  ;  the  moon 
shining  strong,  and  the  shadows  of  the  standers-by,  as 
they  drew  forward  and  back,  falling  and  flitting  over  his 
emergent  countenance.  The  sight  held  us  with  a  horror 
not  before  experienced,  I  dared  not  look  my  lord  in  the 
face,  but  for  as  long  as  it  lasted,  I  never  observed  him  to 
draw  breath  ;  and  a  little  in  the  background  one  of  the 
men  (I  know  not  whom)  burst  into  a  kind  of  sobbing. 

"Now,"  said  Secundra,  "you  help  me  lift  him  out." 

Of  the  flight  of  time  I  have  no  idea ;  it  may  have 
been  three  hours,  and  it  may  have  been  five,  that  the 


330  THE   MASTER   OF   BALLANTRAE. 

Indian  laboured  to  reanimate  his  master's  body.  One 
thing  only  I  know,  that  it  was  still  night,  and  the  moon 
was  not  yet  set,  although  it  had  sunk  low,  and  now 
barred  the  plateau  with  long  shadows,  when  Secundra 
uttered  a  small  cry  of  satisfaction  ;  and,  leaning  swiftly 
forth,  1  thought  I  could  myself  perceive  a  change  upon 
that  icy  countenance  of  the  unburied.  The  next  mo- 
ment I  beheld  his  eyelids  flutter  ;  the  next  they  rose 
entirely,  and  the  week-old  corpse  looked  me  for  a  mo- 
ment in  the  face. 

So  much  display  of  life  I  can  myself  swear  to.  I 
have  heard  from  others  that  he  visibly  strove  to  speak, 
that  his  teeth  showed  in  his  beard,  and  that  his  brow 
was  contorted  as  with  an  agony  of  pain  and  effort. 
And  this  may  have  been  ;  I  know  not,  I  was  otherwise 
engaged.  For,  at  that  first  disclosure  of  the  dead  man's 
eyes,  my  Lord  Durrisdeer  fell  to  the  ground,  and  when 
I  raised  him  up,  he  was  a  corpse. 


Day  came,  and  still  Secundra  could  not  be  persuaded 
to  desist  from  his  unavailing  efforts.  Sir  William, 
leaving  a  small  party  under  my  command,  proceeded  on 
his  embassy  with  the  first  light ;  and  still  the  Indian 
rubbed  the  limbs  and  breathed  in  the  mouth  of  the 
dead  body.  You  would  think  such  labours  might  have 
vitalised   a  stone  ;   but,    except   for  that  one  moment 


THE   JOURNEY   IN   THE  WILDERNESS.  331 

(which  was  my  lord's  death),  the  black  spirit  of  the 
Master  held  aloof  from  its  discarded  clay  ;  and  by  about 
the  hour  of  noon,  even  the  faithful  servant  was  at 
length  convinced.     He  took  it  with  unshaken  quietude. 

**Too  cold,"  said  he,  ''good  way  in  India,  no  good 
here."  And,  asking  for  some  food,  which  he  raven- 
ously devoured  as  soon  as  it  was  set  before  him,  he  drew 
near  to  the  fire  and  took  his  place  at  my  elbow.  In  the 
same  spot,  as  soon  as  he  had  eaten,  he  stretched  himself 
out,  and  fell  into  a  childlike  slumber,  from  which  I 
must  arouse  him,  some  hours  afterward,  to  take  his 
part  as  one  of  the  mourners  at  the  double  funeral.  It 
was  the  same  throughout ;  he  seemed  to  have  outlived 
at  once  and  with  the  same  effort,  his  grief  for  his  master 
and  his  terror  of  myself  and  Mountain. 

One  of  the  men  left  with  me  was  skilled  in  stone- 
cutting  ;  and  before  Sir  William  returned  to  pick  us  up, 
I  had  chiselled  on  a  boulder  this  inscription,  with  a 
copy  of  which  I  may  fitly  bring  my  narrative  to  a  close  : 


f 

i 


J.  D., 
HEIR  TO  A  SCOTTISH  TITLE, 
A  MASTER  OF  THE   ARTS    AND  GRACES, 
ADMIRED  IN    EUROPE,  ASIA,   AMERICA, 
IN  WAR  AND  PEACE, 
IN  THE  TENTS  OF  SAVAGE   HUNTERS  AND  THE 
CITADELS  OF  KINGS,  AFTER  SO  MUCH 
ACQUIRED,  ACCOMPLISHED,  AND 
ENDURED,  LIES  HERE  FOR- 
GOTTEN. 

H.  D., 

HIS  BROTHER, 

AFTER  A  LIFE  OP  UNMERITED  DISTRESS, 

BRAVELY  SUPPORTED, 

DIED  ALMOST    IN  THE  SAME  HOUR, 

AND   SLEEPS  IN   THE  SAME  ORAVE 

WITH  HIS   FRATERNAL  ENEMY. 

THE  PIETY  OF  HIS  WIFE  AND    ONE   OLD  SER 

VANT  RAISED  THIS    STONE 

TO  BOTH. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara  College  Library 
Goleta,  California 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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